Communication is Key
by phantomphan03
Summary: What if the manger of the opera house stayed the same? What if Christine didn't rip the mask from Erik's face right away? What if they actually talked instead of pushing everything aside? How would this alter the story?
1. Prologue

**Author's Note: Hello! This is my first ever phanfiction! I hope I get the details right, but I will likely make a few mistakes, so I apologize for that now. Feel free to let me know if I make any huge errors so I can fix them. Also, I would like to thank my editor xiumelons on AO3 (Archive of Our Own) who fixed many of my errors! Please be aware that the prologue is just basically a quick summary of my version of the story with my own twists before we get into the story. :)**

 **Disclamer: I own do not own and of the character from Phantom of the Opera or any of the storyline I may have used.**

 **Without further ado let's begin!**

* * *

Prologue

Christine's life was full of uncertainty after her father died. She became an orphan and found herself in a new city, the large city of Paris. She was taken as a young ballerina at the Palais Garnier, mostly out of pity and nearly forgotten friendships. The young girl, only seven years old, had nearly no talent when it came to dancing. Her talent was in other places, specifically singing. Unfortunately for her, she was far too young to join the chorus. So, she was forced into being in the ballet until she was much older.

Many nights the young blond haired girl found herself crying in the chapel of the opera house, lighting the candle as she did every night in memory of her father. She almost always asked the same question.

"When are you going to send me the Angel of Music father? You promised you would send me him as soon as you could…" Of course, this was only a fairytale she had been told when she was young. Her father was desperately trying to comfort her as he came closer to his death. Christine's question was always met with silence, except for the quiet scurrying of the few ballet rats who dared to be out this late. Soon she found herself overcome with sobs, missing her father all over again and feeling betrayed by her father lying about sending her an angel. Her nights continued like this for many years, until one night when her life changed forever.

She was overcome with grief, tears threatening to fall from her eyes as they always did. Except, on this night, she began to sing. She didn't know why, but she felt like she was being watched and just thought it was her father's ghost listening. This was the first time she had sang since her father's passing. She felt the tears trailing down her cheeks. Although she was so young and her voice was quite untrained, she sounded like a young angel. She finished the song and looked down at the floor, her vision blurry from the tears.

" _Brava,"_ She let out a small shriek at the voice that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere. She nearly ran out of the chapel, but the voice spoke yet again. " _I have no intention to harm you, I would like to hear you sing yet again…"_

She trembled, frozen in place. The voice sounded that of a young boy, older than her, but she still couldn't quite place the age. _That_ voice though… it was the most beautiful thing she had ever heard. Then, a thought swept through her. "A-are you the Angel of Music? Did my father send you?" No human could possess a voice of such beauty, she thought.

The voice hesitated before answering, " _Yes"_ although he -she assumed from the voice that he was male- didn't sound the most confident she believed him, her young mind easily able to accept this as true. She accepted this as true for the next eleven years, as a matter of fact.

What she didn't know was that there was a young boy of only thirteen speaking from the other side of the wall to her, forced to hide away from the world. This was the first time he ever openly reached out to another human being. Although it was through deceiving this poor girl, he hoped he wouldn't regret this. He said something that surprised even himself.

" _Your voice is quite beautiful for your young age… although it is untrained… I could tutor you… make you into a star… a prima donna, if you will."_ The young girl seemed to be considering his offer before quickly nodding her head with childlike excitement.

"You are willing to tutor me, Angel of Music?" She asked in disbelief. The shadow behind the wall nearly smiled to himself, nearly.

" _Yes, but under very strict conditions. You must never be late and be precise on your arrival, at 9 p.m., sharp, here in this very chapel. If you dare to be late, I will assume that these lessons are unimportant to you and they will end."_ His voice took on a threatening tone that almost made the wide-eyed girl shake with fear. She quickly nodded her head, showing her understanding.

* * *

For the next eleven years Christine was never late for a lesson. She had, of course, missed a few due to illness, but it always seemed that her Angel understood and already knew when she showed up the following day. The shadow behind the wall watched her grow from a young child to a young woman. He tried to ignore her beauty that was only increasing each passing day. Everything was going well, and Christine had finally found herself in the lead role.

The manager stayed the same, and normally followed the notes he received. He had wondered what would happen when he denied the note of any of its wishes, but dared not to test it; until when one of the notes demanded Christine be put into the leading role only days before the show was set to be premiered. When Carlotta said she was "quitting" and stormed off the stage, he found himself calling the, young, timid chorus girl forward.

He was surprised to find out that the girl knew all of the parts and when he asked her to sing one of the main solos in the show she did so. She was hesitant at first, but as soon as she truly began to sing, everyone had gazed at her in awe, not knowing where this girl came from with the nearly perfect voice. There was no denying that she was better than Carlotta. With nearly no hesitation, she was placed in the main role of _Hannibal._

The same day, a new patron was announced, the Vicomte de Chagny. Christine's eyes widened when she first saw the man, her childhood sweetheart. The memories came flooding back of her days by the sea and the young boy who ran into the sea to retrieve her mother's red scarf. She smiled to herself of the memories, but doubted that he would remember her. The Vicomte seemed to be in a rush and was unable to meet any of the cast, including Christine. He did promise to be at the show that was set to occur later that evening.

Christine's nerves were shot as her time to be center stage grew closer. When she stood in the wings, only minutes before the show was to start, she nearly backed out, too afraid of disappointing her angel. That was until she heard his beautiful, melodious voice in her ear.

" _Calm yourself, young songbird, you shall do fine, trust in yourself."_ That was all she needed as she found her cue and went onto the stage. Unknown to her, Raoul watched from his box, recognizing the girl from his childhood. He planned to go to her dressing room as soon as the show was done and attempt to rebuild their long lost friendship.

The show went perfectly, Christine sang each note angelically and was given a standing ovation afterward, something that La Carlotta had not received in a very long time. Christine found herself feeling quite triumphant with her success and had loved the rush of being on stage. She gave her bows listening to the cheers of the audience before she scurried off to her dressing room, locking the door. She looked upon the dressing table and smiled when she saw the usual rose with a black ribbon tied around it. She knew who it was from, her angel, he never once missed one of her performances. Even when she was in the ballet he had left her a single, dethorned rose with a black ribbon perfectly tied around it. Then, she heard a familiar whisper. " _Brava, Brava, Bravissima..."_ She knew he was pleased with her performance, as he hardly gave her praise.

She changed out of her costume into a dressing gown and wiped the heavy stage makeup from her face. She began removing the pins from her hair and set them onto the table in front of her when she heard a knock upon the door. She quickly got up and opened the door to see Madame Giry, the women who had acted as her mother over the years, standing there with a soft, motherly smile on her face.

"You did well, _he_ will be pleased." She was the only person Christine had told of her angel and although she had seemed wary of him at first, she seemed to suddenly be alright with trusting in him. Christine didn't understand why she had suddenly changed, but hadn't questioned it. The older women held out a folded up note to her. "Someone asked me to deliver this to you."

Christine took the note and with that, the older woman left. Christine shut the door and rushed back to her seat at the dressing table. She quickly unfolded the note and read it. She didn't recognize the handwriting, but quickly understood who it was from. It read:

 _A red scarf . . . the attic . . . Little Lotte . . ._

She then heard the laughter of men and one asking to be unaccompanied to speak with Christine. She couldn't quite place the voice since it was muffled through the door, but soon after there came a knock, to which Christine got up and quickly answered. She was surprised to be suddenly caught up in a fierce hug, by the man she had known as her childhood sweetheart.

"Oh Lotte, how I have missed you!" He released her from his embrace and offered her a rose, which she quickly took. "How about we go to supper to renew our old friendship?"

Christine could tell that it wasn't completely friendship that Raoul was after, and for some reason the thought of that made her uncomfortable. She shook away the feeling. "I am sorry, but I must decline… my vocal teacher is quite strict." She felt the need to not say angel, she felt that Raoul wouldn't believe her if she told him of the Angel of Music.

"Oh, but he must let you have fun once in a while!" He gave her an adorable smile that would make any girl swoon. "Two minutes, Little Lotte! I must go get my hat!" He quickly left despite her arguments against going.

After he left and shut the door, she busied herself with brushing out her hair and removing the remaining pins. "Things have changed Raoul." She muttered to herself, slightly angry that he would not listen to her. That's when she heard the lock of her room click into place and found herself plunged into nearly complete darkness.

She knew _he_ was angry. Then she heard his voice boom through the small dressing room causing her to shrink down in fear from displeasing her angel. " _Insolent boy! That slave of fashion! Basking in your glory!"_

* * *

 **A/N: I hope to get the first real chapter up before the end of the week, feel free to leave review!**


	2. The Phantom

**A/N: So I thought I'd get this chapter up rather quickly so we could get into some actual plot. I don't have much to ramble on about so let's begin!**

 **Disclaimer: I own _NOTHING_ you may recognize from Phantom of the Opera**

* * *

The Phantom

The shadow felt jealous, he didn't understand why but seeing _his_ angel with another man wounded him deeply and made him act rashly, without a thought. He suddenly felt the need to reveal himself- as a man- no longer a mere phantom lurking between the walls of the opera house- to this girl at least. He didn't know what he expected as he sent his voice booming throughout the entire room, but he certainly wasn't prepared for her to apologize for her behavior and calling him "master". He was also unprepared for her to ask him to show himself at last.

" _Look at your face in the mirror, see why in shadow I hide…"_ As she turned to face the mirror he slid the trick glass that shielded him from view away, leaving only a thin layer of translucent glass between them. He watched her eyes widen in shock of seeing him for the first time.

She looked at the man in the mirror- no glass? She shook away her confusion and began to examine him. He was thin, nearly unhealthily so. He wore all black evening wear as if he had just come from seeing an opera. He had a shimmering, black cloak embroidered with shiny black beads in an intricate pattern that was obviously handmade, hanging from his thin, but broad shoulders. From what she could see of his face, he was relatively handsome, but in the little to no light she was forced to squint, unable to make out any small details. He had a black, felt, wide-brimmed fedora on his head, intentionally angled to throw the entirety of the right half of the man's face into shadow. She could have sworn she could see something white in the darkness on the right side of his face. She couldn't be sure since he was unhealthily pale, his skin was nearly white by itself… did this man ever go into the sun? However, something about him that caught her attention was his golden eyes. They seemed to glow in the darkness and were oddly beautiful as well as almost catlike. She felt slightly drawn to them. Was this man staring at her through the panel of glass her angel?

Then, he began to sing, washing all of the doubt from her mind of this man's identity. " _I am your Angel of Music. Come to me Angel of Music…"_ The thin piece of glass swung open, but Christine hardly noticed, enthralled by this mystery man's voice. He held out a hand with long, bony fingers encased in a black, leather glove. If she had hesitated in taking the man's hand, she would have seen the slight tremble in it, but she had taken his hand moments after he offered it. Her mind felt like it was covered by a thick fog, the man's voice taking away any ability she had of coherent thought, wrapping her into its melodies. She almost was drugged by this man's voice, so much so she didn't even take a moment to analyze her situation.

She felt the urge to sing, and just went with it, not really understanding half the lyrics she was singing, but continued anyway. She was singing of some 'Phantom of the Opera' but had no idea where the song came from.

He only stopped in the thick darkness of the cave-like hallways to light a lantern that was hung on a nearby wall, barely visible. He temporarily removed his hand from her's and began to fumble with a box of matches.

Christine instantly missed the feel of his large hand on top of her small one but chose to ignore the feeling. He had begun to sing a second verse of the song that she began to sing as he lit the candle within the lantern. The light from the lantern was not much, but it was enough for her to see some of the space she was in. She tried to see the side of her angel's face, but he purposely kept the lantern as far away from his face as possible. The side of his face in question remained shrouded by darkness by the hat he wore. When he noticed her staring at his face he gave a slight glare- at least she assumed it to be the glare from the slight spark she saw within his eyes- before reoffering her his left hand, while the right carried the lantern.

"I am the-the…" She stuttered over the lyric, having no idea where the song was supposed to go, her muse was gone. She didn't know what the lyric was supposed to mean leaving her clueless on how to continue, plunging the two into a confusing silence. She was still in a daze, but questions were beginning to surface in her mind. _Who was this man? Why did he pretend to be her angel? Why had he deceived her for so long?_ There was one question though, that surfaced above all the others. _Why did he decide to show himself now?_

* * *

He led her through the winding labyrinth of pathways beneath the opera house. He was reveling the feel of his angel's hand in his, so much so, he may have taken a few extra turns he knew would prolong their journey.

Eventually, they reached a beautifully carved, wooden boat floating upon a completely still lake with mist swirling above it, adding a mysterious effect. Her eyes widened and she finally managed to squeak something out.

"There's a lake down here? Where are we?" She was curious and afraid at the same time. She had a feeling that this man would not hurt her, but she wasn't prepared to test that.

"We are far below the opera house." Christine was unprepared to hear his voice. For the first time, he was actually speaking to her rather than throwing his voice around her. His speaking voice was absolutely beautiful, it seemed impossible for a mere man to possess such a voice. She now knew that this man was definitely not an angel and felt herself, gullible and childish for believing him to be one for so long.

He knelt down to untie the boat from the shore. After doing so he stood up, and for the first time she noticed how tall he was, he was nearly a full foot taller than her. She felt so small and helpless next to him and shook away the feeling. She began to try and focus on a specific question that was flying through her head. That's when he offered his hand, one foot in the boat, the other on the shore.

She took it yet again, but this time with some hesitation. He helped her enter the boat, making sure she didn't fall from the shaking of the boat from her entering. She sat down at the front of the boat and waited. The man hung the lantern he had been carrying onto the hook that was on the front of the boat before stepping in a standing. He reached down and picked up a pole which he used to push them across the lake.

It felt like a dreamlike experience, crossing a lake in a boat with a man… not to mention god knows how far beneath an opera house. He stayed silent for most of the way to wherever they were going. Then he spoke.

"Sing." It was a near whisper and she didn't hear him.

"What?" She had absolutely no idea what he had said.

"Sing." He said this in a much sterner and more confident voice, she knew she could not refuse his request- well order- nor did she want to.

She began to vocalize, not knowing what to sing. With a gesture of his hand, he gestured for her to go higher. She obliged and continued.

The pair reached the shore with Christine continuing the melody she had begun and continue to go higher with each gesture the man-made with his hand. When they hit the shore she did not stop singing, even as the man tied the boat to the shore and helped her out. She felt herself looking at an odd, but a cozy looking, house. It would have looked completely ordinary if it wasn't in the middle of an underground cavern, surrounded by a lake. He led her into the house.

It seemed like it was prepared for company, many of the gas lamps lit. Her eyes took a moment to adjust to the light and she nearly faltered with her vocalizing. The man swung the cloak from his shoulders gracefully, hanging it on a nearby hook. She once again noticed how thin he was. Yet again, the man gestured for her to go higher even though she was already at an ungodly high key that she had never reached before. She heightened her voice yet again, wanting to please her teacher after meeting him the first time face to face. That's when her voice truly did falter. She placed a hand on her sore throat, disbelieving how high her voice had gone. The man seemed surprised as well. At this time, he removed the hat that was shadowing half his face.

Her eyes widened with surprise as she looked over his face or what she could see anyway. Half of his face was covered by a white porcelain mask. Her eyes darted around his face and noticed how his lips looked malformed on one side, oddly bloated on the side that peeked out from beneath the edge of the mask. He seemed to dislike her staring at him from the look he gave her and she quickly averted her eyes.

"W-who are you?" She finally stuttered out one of the questions that at been plaguing her. This man certainly wasn't an angel, who was he then? _Was she in danger?_

Instead of answer her question he merely began to sing. " _Nighttime sharpens heightens each sensation…"_ She found herself going back into somewhat of a daze lost in the man's angelic voice.

He led her over to a perfectly polished, black piano. While continuing to sing her uncovered the ivory keys that were in perfect condition. He sat down at the bench and added in a melody with the song he was singing, only adding to the beauty of it. She found herself closing her eyes, just to listen to this man's voice.

As the song continued Christine began to feel tired… like she hadn't slept in several days, she felt her knees beginning to buckle as she could tell the song was nearing its end.

" _The power of the music of the night…"_ He noticed her beginning to lose her balance and quickly stood up and grabbed her hand. That was when she lost the battle for consciousness and began to fall. She felt herself being swept into the man's arms before completely surrendering to sleep. The man carried her into a feminine room and set her down upon the bed, covering her with the coverlet with the utmost tenderness.

" _You alone can make my song take flight… help me make the music of the night…"_ That was the last thing she heard before she was carried off into the dreams of sleep. She found herself dreaming of the strange masked man who brought her to this strange place.

* * *

The man, after setting her down in the room went back to the piano but did not play anything. He merely put the cover back over the keys and put his face into his hands. Why has he done this? Did he really do this completely out of jealousy? He hadn't brought another person down to this place ever… save for the troublesome daroga in very specific circumstances. He found that he didn't quite regret bringing her down here, but he did regret bringing her down here nearly unplanned.

When he had seen her with that _boy_ it made his blood boil she was _his_ and no one else's. He had acted rashly in an act of trying to keep her away from the _fop_ by bringing her down here, away from the new patron. His excuse to himself for doing such a thing was that she would get distracted from music by men. He was desperately trying to ignore any other reasons that he may have had for himself.

He didn't know how long he stayed like that, hunched over his piano deep in thought, but eventually, he felt inspiration strike. His muse seemed to be much stronger with his beautiful angel so very close by and began to scribble notes onto the staff paper. He didn't play so he wouldn't wake her from her sleep in the nearby room.

He became too far lost in his composing that he forgot the world around himself and began to play the melody he was composing. He lost track of time, it could have been mere minutes to many hours, but he couldn't tell.

* * *

Christine woke up, expecting to find herself in her dressing room, having fallen asleep on the dressing table. She didn't expect to be in a feminine bedroom that was completely unfamiliar to her. She panicked some and then the memories from the night before came rushing back. She had thought it had been all a dream and began to hesitantly get up and assess her situation.

The room seemed to be set up by a man who was attempting to make it seem like it was for a woman. She could tell it was obviously lacking a woman's touch, way too much pink, at least in her opinion. She walked on her bare feet to a dark brown mahogany dresser and curiously peaked into the drawers. There were women's underthings and she felt herself blush thinking of the man going out to buy these for someone. She wondered if these were meant for her and her face reddened ever more at the thought. She nearly slammed the drawer shut, but managed to close it without a sound.

She glanced around the room once more before heading to the closed door. She could hear the soft sound of melodies from a piano coming through the door. Christine nervously placed her hand onto the doorknob and turned it. It was unlocked, and she opened the door without a sound. She peeked her head out into the hallway and saw the man from the night before hunched over the keys of a piano playing an intricate melody.

She slowly walked up behind the figure, seeing the wire that held the mask he wore in place. She wondered why he wore the mask and as she got closer she began to reach toward it. When her hand was nearly centimeters away from grasping the wire she froze. _What if he had a real reason to wear this mask, other than to conceal his identity?_ Her mind wandered back to when she first saw him without the hat and remember the edge of his lip that looked odd. _Was the rest of his face like that, twisted and malformed perhaps?_

That's how he turned around to see her, with her hand mere centimeters from grasping the mask. He had sensed the presence of another person behind him while pausing in his playing and was quick to react. There was an unexplainable hurt in his eyes as he quickly grabbed her wrist, not know that she had already stopped moving her had toward the mask.

His grip was tight, but not quite painful, it only immobilized her arm from moving any closer. She looked fearful that he was going to hurt her, but any fear disappeared when he helpless muttered the next words.

"Please don't…" He sounded much like an abused frightened child as he said this and it made her heartache.

 _What had this man been through?_ "What is your name?" She attempted to pull away her hand away from his as she said this.

He released her arm but seemed to stay on his guard. "It hardly matters, I am merely a ghost of a man, a phantom if you will."

Her eyes widened as she connected something. "You are th-the phantom… phantom of the opera?!" He simply nodded his head.

She was in the home of the famed phantom, whom she hadn't in believed in until meeting the man who masqueraded as him, shouldn't she be dead? She remembered all the stories of those who got just a glimpse of the ghost, saying that he had attempted to kill them. She was standing right in front of the man and he didn't seem to plan to do any such thing.

Then, as if reading her mind. "I am tired of seeing that fear in your eyes, I do not plan to hurt you in any way. I simply… desire your presence…" He paused. "My name is Erik if that will calm you." His name felt unfamiliar on his own lips, not having spoken it in such a long time.

"Erik… I like it." _So that was her angel's name._ Her curiosity suddenly got the best of her. "So Erik, why do you wear a mask?"

* * *

 **A/N: Hope y'all like cliffhangers ;) (I promise to have the next chapter up by next week)**


	3. Where is She?

**Authors Note: I hope y'all enjoy this chapter I apologize for any mistakes in it. I wrote most of this chapter a 12 a.m. since I really wanted to get it up today! Merry Christmas to everyone I hope all of you have a great day!**

 **Disclaimer: I own _NOTHING_** **you may recognize from Phantom of the Opera (why would I be writing phanfiction if I owned it?)**

 **Now let's continue with our story...**

* * *

Where is She?

" _What?!"_ Erik looked at her with complete shock in his eyes. _Why would she ask something like this?_ He felt hurt that she asked that and invaded his privacy in such a way, but it was better than having his mask ripped away like he assumed she almost did.

Christine felt a bit startled from her reaction but pressed forward. "Why do you wear a mask, Erik? It certainly can't be to hide your identity since I could see half of your face."

He stood up to his full imposing height. "That is _none_ of your business." He paused and glared at her. "Those _fools_ who run my theatre will be missing you."

The masked man didn't offer his hand and merely grabbed his cloak and hat and motioned for her to get into the boat. She felt hurt by his sudden bitterness, but she knew she deserved it for asking something so personal to him. She followed without argument. As she got into the boat she did notice how he seemed to be prepared to catch her at a moment's notice if she were to fall from the boat rocking. A small smile appeared on her face as she realized that this man still cared somewhat no matter how angry he could be. The smile disappeared as she realized more of her situation though.

She was with a man she hardly knew who pretended to be her _angel_ for many years of her life. _Was he dangerous? Why did he live here, below the opera house?_ One question disturbed her most though. _Was this man a criminal, hiding from the authorities?_ She shivered at the thought.

Erik, took this quite differently since he didn't know of the turmoil her thoughts were in. "Are you cold?" Despite his anger, he couldn't let his angel suffer so without allowing her to answer he swiftly put his heavy cloak around her. He had momentarily stopped rowing the boat to do this.

Christine was slightly surprised by the cloak being dropped onto her shoulders. She could tell that Erik was trying to stay angry at her, but was failing. She was within her own thoughts most of the boat ride and was startled by the sudden halt of the boat as it hit the shoreline. Erik merely got out and tied the boat up and waited for her to get out on her own. Although he was obviously resisting offering his hand to her, he still seemed to be prepared if she were to slip.

She quickly got herself out without issue and waited for him to lead the way. He began to walk at a brisk pace, she nearly had to jog to keep up. She felt some remorse for what she did, but it wasn't her fault this man got so protective when just being asked a question. _He has likely lived a life full of painful questions, why else would he be here?_ Her mind argued, she ignored it though, feeling that it was common sense to be careful around this dark figure.

The trek back up to the surface was in silence. Neither dared to speak a word with the amount of tension in the air. Christine looked around herself examining the dark and cavern-like passageways. She let out a small shriek when she saw a rat scurry past in front of them. Erik turned around and simply offered his hand, as to comfort her the rest of the way up. This time, she took the offered hand with hesitation but felt comfort as soon as she placed her hand into his gloved one.

That was the only event for the rest of the way up and soon they found themselves behind the dressing room mirror. She noticed how she could see through the glass on this side. _How much did this man watch her?_ She shivered.

He felt for a switch that was embedded in the stone and with a slight click, the mirror swung open. With their still entwined hands, he pulled her forward and maneuvered her into the dressing room without going into the room himself. It seemed as if he refused to cross from his world of darkness into the world of the light. He quickly released her hand and turned to hastily leave.

"Wait!" Christine didn't know what compelled her to yell to him, but she couldn't stop herself, couldn't let them depart on such bad terms. She felt like if she left like this then something would be lost. "When will I see you again, angel?"

He stopped in his tracks, almost having the mirror all the way shut. He turned around and she could see the shock in his eyes, both from her asking to see him once again and her calling him 'angel'. "Tonight, after the performance if you wish it" He paused, contemplating his next words. "Do not refer to me as such a childish fantasy. I am no angel, I am a creature of darkness, a demon if you will."

She didn't know what to say to that remark, she hardly knew anything about him. _How could she know that what he was saying about himself wasn't true?_ Her silence only served to make things worse, and he turned to leave once again only to hear her say one last thing to him before he fully closed the mirror. "I will see you tonight." She said it in such a childish and unsure voice, but he heard her nonetheless.

* * *

 _ ***A/N: Drug use warning***_

He left without acknowledging she said anything. _Why would she wish to see him again? He was a beast, a monster, he shouldn't be anywhere near a rose like her._ He felt the self-loathing rising within him and just allowed it to overtake him, he wasn't in the mood to fight it. He trudged his way back to his lair and sat down heavily upon the piano bench. Not feeling inspired to play anything, he placed his head in his hands and let his thoughts spiral himself into a depression he knew he could never escape… without the help of less savory things.

His eyes wandered toward the door of his bedroom. He thought of the little wooden box that contained the only thing that would give him relief. As if he were possessed he got up and walked toward his room on shaky legs. The next few moments were a blur to him as he grabbed the wooden box off of a dresser in his mostly dark room. He glanced toward the coffin he had to sleep in if he was going to die he might as well be prepared. He hardly ever went into his room and only spared it one more glance and he left carrying the item he came for and shutting the door behind him. In his haze, he walked back into the main room and sat on the piano bench. He opened the box, it contained two bottles of the drug he preferred, morphine. There was also a syringe within the little box which he hastily picked up and filled with the drug.

He closed his eyes. _Only enough until I see her again…_ He reasoned with himself. Erik opened his eyes once again and only put a small amount of liquid into the needle. He rolled his sleeve up revealing many more marks from a needle and scars from his past. He quickly found his own vein and plunged the needle into his arm ignoring the sting of it going through and pushed the fluid into his arm. He quickly felt himself relax. _No pain._ He thought, _what a wonderful feeling…_ He would never let Christine know of this habit, she could never know of all the things he had done in his life. He sterilized the syringe and placed it back into the box since he couldn't have a clear thought at this moment he simply placed the box onto the piano and uncovered the pristine, ivory keys.

He only knew music at this moment, his mind couldn't torture him, at this time, not while he was within this drug-induced daze. He began playing a soft melody that flowed throughout his mind.

* * *

Christine watched the man leave before turning to face the world before her. She was sure everyone within the opera house wondered where she was the night before. _How was she going to explain that she was with her angel? "Oh, I was only with my Angel of Music, who was actually a man who deceived me, who is also the Phantom of the Opera. That wouldn't sound crazy._ Despite her situation, she chuckled to herself at this, finding it slightly humorous. She quickly checked her appearance in the mirror and headed out into the main area of the opera house.

She heard a commotion near the entrance of the opera house and went to investigate.

" _Where_ is she?" That was Raoul, he was speaking to the manager waving a note at him. "'The Angel of Music has her under his wing, make no attempt to see her again.' What is the meaning of this note?!" Christine couldn't believe what she was hearing, why did Erik write that note? She decided to not make herself known quite yet.

"Monsieur, I'm sure she is fine, I apologize for this note… I have no idea where it may have come from." Lefevre was desperately trying to explain himself, lying through his teeth fully knowing the origin of the notes. He silently prayed the soprano was alright.

Madame Giry suddenly joined in. "The girl is fine, she was merely tired from the performance the night before."

"She disappeared from her dressing room! I heard a man's voice coming from within her dressing room!" Raoul was clearly certain she was in danger currently. She decided to cut off any further conversation with her own appearance.

As she walked out of her hiding spot she noticed Carlotta there basically fuming and Piangi standing by her side, pretending that he was in this argument with her when he was really quite bored. All eyes were on her when she entered the room, completely unharmed. "Hello monsieurs and madames, I apologize for my disappearance the night before… I was quite overwhelmed and went straight to the dormitories to rest."

"Then whose was that voice I heard from inside your dressing room?" Christine felt a little hurt that Raoul had come back to her dressing room and eavesdropped but quickly thought of a lie.

"Raoul, I haven't the slightest idea what you are talking about. I left my dressing room right after you left. You must have heard an echo from down the hall or a nearby room." She was glad she was an actor since her deceit couldn't be detected by most. Everyone in the room seemed to believe her, although the Vicomte seemed to be quite conflicted on whether or not he should argue. "Now, I must take my leave. I am quite drained from my performance yesterday and I have yet another today, so I wish to go rest." She turned to leave when Raoul stopped her.

"Wait! Would you wish to go to breakfast with me? Just as friends, I wish to catch up with you Little Lotte. Surely you must have time…" Christine practically rolled her eyes, she hadn't lied about being tired and only wished to go be alone with her own thoughts. She could tell that Raoul obviously was going to want more than friendship, but wasn't going to address it at this time, she merely wanted rest.

"I'm sorry Raoul, but I have already eaten… I ate breakfast before I made my appearance here." A lie, but it would get Raoul off her back for now. She was quite hungry but she could just watch until lunch. She left as quickly as she could, nearly tripping in the progress. She managed to get back to her dressing room before Raoul could get another word in.

She laid down onto the couch that was in the room and put a hand to her head. She tried to focus in on one of her many thoughts so she could at least get one thing resolved in her head before she had to rush off to rehearsals in a couple of hours. She hoped they wouldn't be too hard since they were only going through the production again and correcting the few errors there were.

She closed her eyes to try and focus only to let her fatigue from everything that happened get to her and send her into a deep, dreamless sleep. If she did have any dreams as she slept it would have been those of a man in a gleaming white mask…

* * *

She awoke a few hours later to pounding on the door. She swiftly got up realizing she had fallen asleep and opened the door. Madame Giry stood before her. "Are you hurt child, did _he_ hurt you in any way?" Her questioning seemed slightly frantic. "I'm sorry I couldn't come sooner… the Vicomte wouldn't stop pestering me, he believed I was hiding something from him. But are you alright?! Did _he_ hurt you? I knew I should have never allowed him to teach you."

 _So madame knew of the phantom, her angel._ "I'm fine Madame, he did not hurt me, he was a gentleman toward me."

With that said, Madame Giry breathed out a visible sigh of relief. "Thank goodness… What exactly happened?"

Christine was slow to answer. "Well… he took me down to his home… and I fainted, I can't remember why," She spoke this part slowly but then sped up. "When I woke up I reached for his mask, but I stopped myself before I took it off. He turned and saw me with my hand out and became angry… and the amount of hurt in his eyes… Oh! I feel horrible for hurting him in such a way!" She let the tears she had been holding in fall. "He had been so kind and tutored me all these years and the second he shows himself to me I break his trust!" Madame came closer and embraced her young foster daughter.

"Shhhh, my sweet child, it's going to be alright… I'm sure he knew that you meant no harm." Inside, Madame Giry had no idea what that man could be thinking but was trying to comfort this poor girl with possible lies.

"Th-then I asked him why he wore his mask!" She stuttered out between tears. "I surely have lost any trust he had in me!" She feared that he wasn't ever going to appear to her again even though he promised to come back this night.

Madame Giry continued to comfort the hysterical girl the best she could in the, knowing that what she was saying to comfort her wad more than likely all lies. Eventually, Christine calmed herself and apologized for her mental breakdown. She also promised to be at rehearsals in a few minutes after she cleaned herself up.

Christine gazed at herself in the mirror, unaware of the figure who had watched the entire scene on the other side. She ran a hand through her tangled curls when she was startled by a voice, but not by just any voice her angel's voice.

" _I am not angry with you Christine… I'm sorry for any pain I may have caused you…"_

* * *

 **A/N: Hope you guys are enjoying the story so far! Please read and review! (if you notice any mistakes please let me know so I can go back through and correct them)**


	4. Prima Donna

**A/N: Hope y'all are enjoying this story! I'd really love some reviews to know y'all like it though... but with over 500 views on it so far I'm pretty happy with that :)**

 **Disclaimer: Ah yes I've somehow gained ownership of phantom and now I'm writing phanfiction for it (not I own literally nothing you may recognize from phantom)**

 **Now, let us continue on!**

* * *

Prima Donna

Christine stared at the mirror in confusion. _Why did his words seem slurred?_ He normally spoke with such confidence and clearness in his voice, but at the moment she was having trouble understanding what he nearly mumbling. "Angel? Are you drunk?" There was obvious disapproval in her voice.

"Nooo… I'm fineee…" His words were unnaturally drawn out and she knew he had to be on something.

"Show yourself to me then." She could hear him on the other side fumbling to find a switch. He normally absolutely silent with his actions, reinforcing her theory that he was under the influence of some substance.

After a few long moments, the mirror finally swung open revealing Erik, whose appearance surprised her. His clothing was rumpled and he was slightly slouched. He wasn't wearing any gloves and from what she could see of his hands he had fallen several times coming up here. His white shirt was untucked and he wasn't wearing his cloak or hat. The mask he wore was slightly skewed almost showing her part of his face. His dark, black hair was a complete mess and wasn't gelled to perfection as it normally was. His golden eyes were clouded and he was leaning on the wall for support.

She quickly turned and locked the dressing room door and then grabbed the man's damaged hand. She led him to the couch and pushed him to force him to sit down. He didn't fight back which was out of character for him. All of his movements were sluggish and lacked the natural grace he had. She flipped over his right hand to reveal his bloodied palm. She quickly pulled out a small medical kit she normally used on herself when she injured herself during rehearsals and began to treat the cuts. He seemed unaffected by what she was doing as if he couldn't feel any pain. _Perhaps a pain drug?_ It seemed so odd to her that her angel would stoop so low as to take drugs. Then again, how much did she really know about this man?

"What are you on, Erik?" She asked as she worked.

When she received no reply she looked up to find his eyes fixed on her tending to his wounds in awe, as if he had never been given such treatment before. "Erik?"

"No-nothing…" He slurred out and after seeing her disapproving glare he finally broke. He was normally much more secretive and stubborn, but with this drug, in his system, he was more in a daze than anything. "Morphine…"

Her eyes widened in surprise. "Where in the world did you get that Erik?" She paused, realizing she would more than likely not get an answer while he was in this state. "Actually, I don't even want to know."

She closed her eyes and tried to gather her thoughts and suddenly remembered that she promised Madame Giry she'd be at rehearsal. She quickly jumped up, startling the dazed man before her. "I have to go to rehearsals. Do not allow yourself to be discovered, _please._ "

He lazily nodded his head in reply. With that, she left praying that this masked man wouldn't get himself into trouble. She locked the door behind her taking the key with her. She quickly went to rehearsals hoping she didn't run into anyone along the way.

When she reached the stage she quickly joined the rest of the ballet.

"Christine! You are the lead role move to your correct spot!" She did as she was told by the director trying to hide her surprise that Carlotta wasn't here.

 _Where could she be?_ Christine thought, she remembered seeing her earlier in the day when she was glaring at her while she spoke to the manager. _Perhaps she was sent away? Or maybe the manager couldn't sate her childish wants and needs._ Christine guessed it was the latter of the two options. Carlotta would be back when she realized that she wasn't going to be chased after and begged for her return.

"Focus Christine!" It took a moment for Christine to realize she had been far too deep in her thoughts and had missed her cue. She quickly went to the correct spot and promised herself to not let her mind wander for the rest of the rehearsal.

* * *

Erik found himself not moving whatsoever and not even feeling the need to. He sat limply on the couch riding out the remaining high the morphine gave him. He glanced down at his bandaged hand that his angel tended to for him. _How kind of her… For her to take care of such a beast without even being asked…_ He tried to ignore the urge to close his eyes that was slowly growing stronger.

He should leave… he should be gone before her return. His thoughts wandered past this though. Erik looked down at his other hand, covered in his own blood and it was horribly dirty. He let out an irritated sigh and picked up things from the med kit Christine had left next to him. This wasn't the first time he had been injured so he easily cared for the minor scratches on his hand and covered them. They would make it difficult for him to play his piano but he already knew he would just ignore the pain and play anyways. Nothing could keep him from his music. Well, perhaps one, thing; Christine could. If she asked him to give up music for good he would gladly do so. He was her willing servant awaiting her command. He let his mind wander to how much he cared for and lo-...

He quickly shook the thoughts away, thinking of her while under the influence of this drug was dangerous. He couldn't let his thoughts drift to such horrible places, what did he have to give her anyway? Music, music was all he could give her and he was quite sure it would never be enough for her. She would want a life in the sunlight above ground not in some home build in the fifth cellar of the opera house. What of his face? He was hideous, a demon that didn't belong in this world. He didn't have a pretty face like the Vicomte who could offer her everything she could want and more. He'd never have a chance to have her with that _fop_ around. How he longed to snap the boy's neck, but he knew that Christine would never be able to forgive him if he did so and followed through with such desires.

He groaned and put his head in his hands. It was hopeless. Utterly hopeless. Why had God cursed him in such a way? He closed his eyes and silently cursed any God that existed if there was one. Due to the drug within his body, he fell asleep in this position inside Christine's dressing room. Images of his angel floated through his dreams as he slept somewhat peacefully, sleeping off the remaining effects of the morphine.

* * *

The rest of the rehearsal went by quickly. They were only stopped a few times to fix small errors that were made. It was near the end of the rehearsal and it seemed that Carlotta was not going to return before the next show. Everyone who thought that was wrong.

"What is this girl doing in my place?" Carlotta shrieked across the theatre causing everyone to jump and some to cover their ears. The high pitched noise that Carlotta's voice made could nearly break glass.

Christine scurried to the back without anyone telling her to and just joined the rest of the ballerinas. Everyone was quite surprised by her compliance. Carlotta strutted to center stage proud to have it back, especially with all eyes on her after her big entrance. All the other performers seemed disappointed that Carlotta had returned and some groans were heard throughout the company. Carlotta turned around with her anger obvious.

"What? Don't you all love me?!" Some fake sounds of affirmative were heard from those standing there trying to sate Carlotta. Sadly, even she could tell when she was being lied to. "I am the prima donna you all will love me! There is a reason why I am the lead role and any of you are not!" Her Spanish accent was making her near hysterical voice hard to understand, but everyone was trying their best to calm her.

Suddenly her burning eyes went to the quiet girl in the back. "Is she a better singer than I? Do you like her more than me, the little brat!" Christine looked down as Carlotta flung horrible insults at her. "She only was in the lead role because she bed the Vicomte!"

As Carlotta said this Christine felt a blush rise to her cheeks. _Did the cast think she slept with the patron to get to where she was?_ She prayed that wasn't what they thought, but knew more than likely they did. She could feel fury rise up within her, something rare for her to feel. Although she was too timid to act on it she wished she could slap Carlotta across the face or at least spit some biting insult back at her. Christine closed her eyes and waited for Carlotta to just give up and leave her be. She felt tears stinging at her eyes and willed them not to fall, she couldn't give Carlotta what she wanted.

The conductor finally stepped in and dared to cross the prima donna while throwing her childlike tantrum. "That is quite enough Madame! We have a show to rehearse if you care to join us. Mademoiselle Daae was merely filling in for you during your absence."

"I do not care! I do not want that brat filling in for me any longer!" She screeched as an angry child would. She even stomped her foot a little bit to try and add authority to what she was saying.

"O-of course Madame! As long as you take no unexpected _vacations_." The manager joined into this argument of trying to sate the angry women before them.

Carlotta still had one more unreasonable request. "Even if I am gone the twit is not to replace me again! She is bad for my audience!" She seemed to think getting rid of Christine would solve all of her problems.

"Well if you are gone again then who is to replace you?" Lefevre hesitantly asked.

"I do not _care_! As long as it is not _her_!" She spit out the word 'her' with such venom even Christine could sense it from the back of the room.

"As you wish…" Lefevre said in defeat. He turned to leave muttering about how he needed to retire and this work was too stressful for him.

Christine could have stepped in sometime during the dispute and said she really didn't mind being in the background but found she would rather see how the dispute went down. Even though she knew she was better at singing than Carlotta her words still stung. She just tried to ignore everything around her and noticed how Meg sent worried glances in her direction. Christine just smiled to show she was alright even though that was far from the truth. Inside she was crying to herself, tired of being berrated by the tyrant of the prima donna.

"Alright let's begin back at the beginning of the aria!" Christine plunged herself into focusing on rehearsals, glad to have some kind of distraction from the storm of emotions swirling within her.

* * *

Throughout the remaining part of rehearsal, Carlotta was compliant she didn't complain, very much, only when she directly corrected saying 'she was doing everything just right'. Christine would just roll her eyes, knowing the action was wrong considering she was in the role for one of the performances. She mentally cringed everytime Carlotta hit a sour note, which was nearly every second. Christine was beginning to tire of the constant glares sent in her direction and it was really starting to wear on her. Finally, just as she was really to cry from the stress of the day lunch break was called.

"Meet back here in thirty minutes!" The director hollered at the company as they skipped off to lunch, knowing full well many were going to be late on purpose.

Christine hurried off with Meg, just wanting to be away from everyone and enjoy some food since she had skipped breakfast in the morning to get away from Raoul. She didn't really want a relationship at this time since she was more focused on furthering her career as an actor.

During this entire time, she had forgotten about the man slumped, asleep inside her dressing room. She listened to Meg talk excitedly about how handsome the Vicomte is and kept asking if she was going to go to lunch with him. Christine merely answered 'maybe' since she didn't feel like answering Meg's endless questions if she said no.

She let Meg gush about all the cute men in the opera house and how she wished one would court her and take her away from this place. She rolled her eyes at Meg's childish fantasies but didn't bother to jump in and change anything she was saying.

Soon, lunch had ended and Christine trudged her way back to her spot on the stage preparing herself for Carlotta's incoming glares. Carlotta was of course ten minutes late to come back and no one commented on it they just went on with rehearsal as normal.

By the end of rehearsals, everything seemed to be going alright and nothing seemed wrong so everyone was dismissed without having to stay late, only giving them an hour to prepare for the show later that night. Everyone rushed off to get their makeup and costumes fixed before the show started.

Christine was dragged off to the ballet dormitories since she was no longer the prima donna and had to get ready with the rest of the ballet. Thankfully, Carlotta wanted a different dressing room insisting the one Christine had been in was 'unclean and disgusting' so the man that laid within was left undisturbed.

The performance went as well as it could, with Carlotta in the lead role and the audience seemed to dislike having the screeching prima donna back. Christine felt odd as if something was missing throughout the entire thing and just shrugged it off.

She returned to the dressing room she had inhabited after the show and reached for the door handle, completely forgetting what lied within.

* * *

 **A/N: Hope you enjoyed! Please read and review! (I'm literally begging)**


	5. The Vicomte

**A/N: I received some wonderful reviews from Kael and Bleaky and I felt inspired to do a double update! Thank you both for your kind words about my story and they really encourage me to write more!**

 **Kael- Thank you for all your kind words, your comment about wanting to know what was going to happen next inspired me to do this extra update!**

 **Bleaky- Yes you'd be quite correct in noticing my use of Kay's phantom I think parts of that character are needed to make the phantom, well the phantom. I'm mixing just about every version of the phantom that I've seen! Thank you for everything you said and for inspiring this extra update!**

 **Disclaimer: Idk why I need this here, I mean like,,,, this is on a fanfiction website,,,, as you can guess I don't own anything you man recognize from phantom of the opera**

 **Now let us continue on!**

* * *

The Vicomte

Christine had forgotten she had locked the door. When she found the door locked she thought it was odd but didn't think anything of it. She pulled out the key and quickly unlocked the door and went inside. She was immediately surprised by the man fast asleep on the couch of the room. _What was he doing in here? Hadn't I told him to leave?_ She noticed how peaceful he looked and something told her he didn't sleep very much from the darkness beneath his visible left eye. She decided to just let him sleep for the time being and locked the dressing room door so no one would come barging in. She began to quietly take the heavy stage makeup off and removing the pins from her hair. She silently wondered if the drug Erik had been on was out of his system. She knew she was going to find out sometime soon since she was going to have to wake him up soon.

She went behind the changing screen in case he woke up and changed into the white robe she had been wearing the night before when he had come to her. She glanced at Erik's still sleeping form and decided she had to wake him up. She cautiously approached trying to decide the best way to wake him up. Just as she was getting close though the floor creaked rather loudly and Erik's eyes snapped open. There was panic and disorientation in his eyes, but they didn't seem clouded like they were before when he was on that horrific drug.

"Where am I?!" Erik couldn't remember much of anything from when he was under the haze of the drug and looked around the room in a panic. He jumped to his feet and saw a fearful Christine before him.

"Yo-you are in my dressing room…" She hadn't expected him to jump up so quickly and she found herself slightly frightened by the man before her.

"How did I get here?" He was desperately trying to recall something from his time under the drug's spell, but he knew only time could return his lost memories.

"I'm not sure… I believe you walked up here." She shifted uneasily on her feet.

"That explains this…" He mumbled to himself not fulling meaning to speak out loud. He looked at his bandaged hands, one being bandaged with care the other bandaged clumsily and hardly even cover. He had obviously done that himself, but who did the other? He looked at Christine who had followed his gaze.

"You must've fallen on your way up here… I didn't have time to do your other hand I had to go to rehearsals." She looked down slightly embarrassed that she could only do one of his hands and then suddenly looked up. "Give me your hand, it needs to be wrapped better than that."

He thought about giving her his hand, but no he couldn't let this angel be tainted by the touch of such a monster. She shouldn't be forced to tend for the wounds he had only caused himself. "I am quite fine. I can take care of myself." He put the hand in question behind his back.

Suddenly a thought came to him. _Why can't I recall coming up here?_ That only happened when he… "Christine… did I act strangely when I came up here?"

She nodded her head. "Yes…" She pondered for a moment. "If I remember correctly you told me you were on morphine…" He could hear the disappointment in her voice.

He let out a relatively loud groan and placed his head back into his hands. "I'm sorry Christine… please forgive me! I-I was planning to be out from under the drug's spell when I came to you." _Apparently, the drug had other plans…_ Now that she knew his horrid addiction what would she do? He waited for her to tell him to leave, the sick twisted creature he was.

"I forgive you… but Erik why did you take it?" She was afraid of the answer to the next question she asked. "Have you done it before?"

"Yes… many times before… I used to use opium but it was much too hard on the vocal cords." He answered slightly shamefully. "I took the morphine after you left because-because I couldn't bear dealing with my own thoughts… alone without you… I just wished to be without pain…"

With this being said he slumped his shoulders with his face still in his hands. It was quite an odd sensation, feeling half of his real face and the other half a cold, porcelain mask. His entire body tensed when he felt a small hand being placed on his shoulder. When was the last time he had been touched? He couldn't remember the last time he had been touched without harm being inflicted upon him with it.

She felt sympathy for him and desperately wished she could comfort him. "Erik… What kind of life have you known? What has caused you to know such torment?" She lowered her voice to a near whisper in an attempt to get him to relax his tensed muscles.

As she said these words Erik slowly looked up and met her eyes. He mistook what he saw there for pity, not wanting to believe it could be anything else. How he loathed pity! He had had quite enough of it in his life! He did not want this girl's damned pity! "Stop looking at me in such a way! I do not require your pity I've had quite enough of it in my lifetime!" He had raised his voice to a frightening level, causing her to scurry to the far side of the room. He missed the pressure of her hand on his back, but he certainly didn't want it from pity.

"Give your damned pity to someone else! I want none of it!" With that, he stood to his feet and angrily stomped out of the room through the passageway of the mirror.

The frightened and startled girl stood in the corner frozen. _What had just happened?_ She wasn't pitying him… No, she was trying to show him compassion. She couldn't blame him for his outburst though, somehow she knew that he had no idea what the difference was between compassion and pity. She felt a strange need to be the one to show him that not all humans were out to hurt him in one way or another. Her guess was that his difficulties in life must have something to do with his face. _Why else would he wear a mask and be so very protective of it?_ She reasoned. _It couldn't be that horrible, he is just a man._

She was snapped out of her thoughts by a rather loud knocking at the door. "One moment!" She scrambled to put away the medical kit and to make sure there was no trace of the man who had been in her room on seconds before.

She ran to the door and quickly opened it praying that it was Meg or Madame Giry. Sadly, it was neither of those two and the door opened to reveal Raoul. She really wasn't in the mood to deal with him right now and simply wished to be left alone. Before she could think of an excuse Raoul barged into her dressing room without her inviting him in. She nearly groaned in annoyance and somehow suppressed that urge.

"What can I do for you, Raoul?" She tried to keep the annoyance out of her voice.

"Little Lotte I've been looking everywhere for you after the performance!" He swooped her into a hug she took no comfort in… it just felt wrong to her to be in his arms, as if she wasn't meant to be there.

She attempted to wiggle away, but Raoul only tightened his grip, thinking that was what she wanted. She just gave up and accepted her current situation. "You must come to supper with me tonight! I've already spoken to the manager and he said you shouldn't be busy." Christine internally groaned.

She had no excuses since Erik wasn't coming back for her with how angry he had been and Raoul also must have known she didn't have the performance the following day or rehearsals. Tomorrow was her day off which meant she couldn't make an excuse that she needed to go sleep early in order to be prepared for the next day.

"Fine, I'll go…" She really didn't want to but she saw no other choice.

"Great! I shall wait outside for you while you get ready!" He beamed at her with such joy that it almost made this torture worth going through. He quickly left the room and she locked the door behind him as he left.

She leaned her back against the wood of the door silently praying Erik would come to her and whisk her away into his world. There was only music in his world, no Vicomtes that couldn't take no for an answer nor prima donnas that had yet to understand the importance of pitch, just music.

Seeing that Erik wasn't going to come to her rescue she defeatedly began to change into a nice, blue day dress. She hoped that Raoul didn't plan to take her to anywhere overly fancy since she only owned causal clothing, being unable to afford the extravagant gowns noblewomen wore. _We are just going as old friends, nothing more. He will likely bring us somewhere like a small cafe or something._ She hoped that all of this was true and Raoul didn't hope for anything more.

Finished preparing herself as best she could, she spared one last pleading glance at the mirror before trudging out of the room. She went out to the front of the opera house and tried her best to look happy about this entire situation as she walked up to Raoul. He offered his hand and she slowly took it. He helped her into the carriage before them and got in after her.

The carriage ride was a short one, spent entirely in silence. She guessed Raoul had been expecting her to say something, but she had no idea how to start a conversation especially since she didn't want to be there.

They arrived at a small, overly fancy restaurant and Christine felt a knot in her stomach. _Why is he taking me here? I'm not dressed for any place like this._ At the moment she knew that he didn't simply want to 'talk about old times'. He had to want more for him to take her to such a place. This was the kind of place a man would take a woman he was courting.

This time, Raoul got out of the carriage first so he could better help her out. She nervously took his hand and followed him into the restaurant, knowing it would be useless for her to say anything about it now. She should have asked where they were going before they had left. She stayed quiet as they entered the restaurant and were seated. She hoped this would go better than it seemed it would.

* * *

The dinner went horribly, Raoul spent the entire time blabbering on about how great his life was going and hardly letting her talk. He wasn't discouraged by her lack of comments or interesting during the entire time and kept going, on and on about nothing. She had ordered the cheapest thing she could find on the menu and Raoul had figured that out. Despite her pleas to leave it and that it was fine he changed her order to some exquisite and expensive French dish. She had looked on the menu to see what it even was and, just by reading the description of it she knew she wouldn't like it.

When their food had arrived she pretended that she liked it and politely ate it while trying to ignore all the stares coming from nearby tables. She could only imagine all the gossip that was spreading about the Vicomte being out with a poor ballet rat. Although the food didn't really fit her tastes she did have to admit it was nice having something other than the poor food the opera house served the cast.

After the dinner, Raoul asked her to go for a walk around the nearby park and since Christine didn't want to be rude after he paid for such expensive food had no choice but to oblige. The moon was high in the sky and it was quite late out, the perfect setting for something romantic to happen. Christine had no wish for anything like that to happen and didn't know what she would do if Raoul did attempt to do something like that.

 _He's a good man, he likely just wants to catch up… he couldn't want more, not from someone like me._ She thought she had many good reasons why he wouldn't want her but found herself quite wrong.

Since she was in her thoughts, she didn't catch Raoul before he had swept her into his arms with his face inches from hers. "You are so beautiful…" He lifted up a hand and pushed a curl out of her face. She knew her face had reddened and Raoul took that as a sign she wanted him to continue.

It was quite the opposite though, Christine was struggling mentally she wanted out of this position feeling quite uncomfortable with it. She had only just reunited with him and he was doing this? Her heart rate speeded up from her nerves. She desperately tried to think of a way out of the position. Her mind was racing. "Rao-..."

She was cut off from even more shock when she saw him leaning in closer to her, moving his head much to close for her comfort.

* * *

 **A/N: You're welcome for the nice cliffhanger :) (plz don't murder me)**

 **As always please continue to read and review!**


	6. Il Muto

**A/N: Hello once again! Thank you for all your kind reviews they encourage me to keep writing! Just know I might be able to do another double update if this chapter gets enough reviews (which probably won't even be that many honestly :) ).**

 **Disclaimer: I wish I owned phantom... well except for Raoul and a few other characters... but yea I don't own anything you may recognize from phantom**

 **Now forward! (also i had do go back through and reupdate this chapter cause I forgot to put linebreaks)**

* * *

Il Muto

Erik had come back up for her, expecting her to still be there when he returned. He realized he had frightened her so he had left in order to calm his temper. He was surprised to return and find her gone and hundreds of thoughts raced through his head. _Is she alright? Where did she go?_ One thought was more prominent than the others though. _Was she with the_ _ **fop**_ _?_ He felt rage at the thought of her being with someone other than himself. He quickly left the opera house while sticking to the shadows. He got outside just in time to see the _fop_ helping Christine in a carriage.

 _How dare he touch my protege? She is_ _ **mine**_ _!_ He failed to notice how uncomfortable the girl looked as the fop tried to act like some sort of charming prince. All Erik could see was how charming the boy was compared to himself. Erik followed them while keeping to the shadows to avoid being seen. He watched them go into a small, expensive restaurant, only serving to anger him more. He couldn't see her apparent boredom from the boy's endless speaking or her hardly eating the food she was given. No, he only saw the fop was giving her what he could never give her. A dinner in a public place. How he wished he could fearlessly go into public despite the stares, but he also was a wanted man. Although many didn't know what he looked like, people were sure to figure out his identity due to his mask. Nearly everyone on the streets of Paris knew of the infamous "phantom of the opera", he actually took quite a liking to the nickname no matter how childish it sounded. He continued to torture himself more by continuing his spying on the young couple.

He watched as the fop reached across the table to grasp Christine's hand. She let her hand lay limply in his. Erik yearned to simply be allowed to do that! To be able to do take her hand without asking for permission would be like a dream come true! He couldn't let such fantasies overtake him though, as they would never be a reality due to his horrid ugliness. He once again redirected his attention back to the couple within the restaurant that were unaware of his surveillance. They were getting up to leave now and he ducked into an alleyway, preparing to follow them to wherever they may go.

He watched them reenter the carriage and go to a local park. He stayed as far a possible behind them while still having them within his view. Erik didn't want to Christine to know of his stalkerish presence. Erik cursed the weather for being so perfect, if only it would start raining perhaps that would separate the two.

Erik's only wish was to be able to go for walks in the park on Sundays, or even just once. If he ever got to be normal for just a day that's what he would do. Erik knew he'd never get that chance though he still yearned for it. He shook these thoughts away and focused on the couple he was following.

Christine seemed to be deep in her thoughts, while the boy was gazing at her with an odd look in his eye. Suddenly, the boy swept Christine into his arms and Erik felt the anger within him threatening to take over. He somehow managed to keep to the shadows as the fop leaned in towards her face. _He is going to kiss her!_ _ **No!**_ He wanted so badly to swoop in and steal _his_ Christine away from the damn boy, but instead, he just dropped his head in defeat. He decided to stop exposing himself to this torture and turned to leave. He couldn't take watching this any longer.

" _Christine…"_ It was a pained noise that left his throat as he left to go back into his personal hell beneath the opera house. He hadn't even realized he had actually said it as he left in his grief-stricken daze.

Christine was frozen, she didn't want this, but she couldn't move. _Why is he trying to kiss me?! Can't he see I don't want this?_ He was so close to stealing her first kiss away from her when she heard it. Her name, barely a whisper among the wind and it was from a voice she easily recognized. It was her angel, _Erik_. Just before Raoul claimed her lips she turned her head to this side causing him to kiss just the corner of her mouth. She put her hands on his chest and push him away. The confused look on his face was almost enough for her to stop and explain, almost.

Maybe she could still catch up with him if he was still here. _Was he even here or was I just hearing things?_ Despite the fact that he may not have even been there she turned and ran. She tried to follow where she believed it came from.

Raoul stood frozen for a moment for a moment before trying to follow only to find he had no idea where she went. He sighed in defeat and began walking back to the carriage.

"Erik!" She tried to call for him even though it was no use, he was already gone. She kept running in the general direction he might have been. After a few minutes of running, she saw him. He was staring at her from the darkness with his glowing yellow eyes, almost a cat would. He looked at her with confusion and sadness in his eyes. _Did he see the whole thing? Does he think I kissed Raoul?_ She hoped not, but why would he care? He was merely her teacher. _Does he think of me more than a student?_ She took a step closer.

"Erik…?" He took a step back as a scared animal would. He acted like he was cornered and afraid. "What's wrong?" He still didn't answer… just stared.

 _Why would she be searching for me? How did she know I was here?_ She had just kissed her pretty boy and now she was searching out him? He began to feel uncontrollable anger rise within him, a type of anger he wouldn't be able to control. Who did she think he was? He was the phantom of the opera! He turned on his heel and began to run back to the opera house.

" _ **You will curse the day you did not do, all that the phantom asked of you!"**_ He nearly screamed into the night as he ran away. He was sure she heard him and hoped she knew that she would pay for this. _If I can't have her then no one shall have her!_ He would never hurt her merely… take care of any young suitors who have the misfortune to attempt and court her.

Christine was left standing in the darkness alone. He was gone… _What have I done?_

* * *

Christine spent the rest of the week going to rehearsals and avoiding Raoul. She realized how she felt about him now… he was like a brother to her, she loved him like that. It was the type of love that marriage could never work with, they were best off staying as friends. She didn't want any sort of relationship Raoul seemed like he was attempting to obtain, perhaps if they'd stayed together as children things may be different, but they didn't. _Things have changed since we were children._

She hadn't heard from Erik since that night and was deeply hurt by it. She felt something for him but wasn't sure what. Friendship, that's what it had to be or at least that was all she was willing to accept it to be for now.

She was currently in the dressing room Carlotta had abandoned since Christine had 'poisoned' it. She wanted to get away from everyone, to make sense of all the thoughts in her head. She silently prayed Erik would show up and just talk, she wanted to know why he was keeping his distance.

* * *

They had begun a new production, Il Muto. Christine hadn't heard anything about any more notes from the phantom. _Was he gone forever?_ She couldn't help but feel indescribable loneliness at his disappearance and the possibility of him never returning. Christine had been forced to play the pageboy since Carlotta threw a huge fit about Christine getting any sort of singing role. The manager had reluctantly agreed, although he seemed to keep hoping something would cause her to disappear again. No such disasters came.

' _You will curse the day you did not do, all that the phantom asked of you!'_ His words kept floating through her head. When was he going to strike? What was he going to do? _What did he mean by that?_ She felt a strange fear, not for herself, but for what _he_ was going to do. She knew what he was capable of, or at least some of what he was. _Was he capable of murder?_ She felt a shiver down her spine at the thought. He wouldn't kill anyone… _would he?_ She hardly knew the man, what could he really do if he was angry?

Christine spent much of the time during rehearsals looking up toward the catwalks, looking for a flash of white. _What would I do if I see him?_ She had no idea. In rehearsals, she didn't have to pay much attention to what was going on, since all she really had to do was move around the stage on her cues.

The first show of it was tonight. Erik hadn't been heard or seen from for two months now. _Was he going to strike now?_ If he wanted to make a lasting impression he would likely do it during a show so everyone would know who the phantom was. She anxiously waited on the wings of the stage for her cue to go on and enter. She loathed the production, much too comedic rather than an actual story, but at least it was easy. She didn't mind not having to sing on this one. She went out onto the stage on her cue and looked at the audience. It was mostly full of nobles who could care less about the arts and were only here to show they had high status. She disliked people like that and wished that the world was run on people's status.

The show seemed like it was a success with Carlotta sending her only a few hateful stares, which she chose to ignore. Intermission came around and Christine scurried backstage and sat down to wait for when she had to go back on. She had no idea of the shadow within the walls of the opera house preparing to strike.

* * *

He was going to get his revenge _tonight._ The fop was sure to be here, he had to be. He was going to teach the damn boy a lesson from attempting to take _his_ Christine. He knew the boy was sitting alone in box five, a soon to be a fatal mistake. Erik's grip on the lasso tightened as he came closer and closer to entering the secret entrance of box five.

He silently opened the hollow pillar and stepped in. He locked the door so no one would come in it make it difficult for the boy to escape him. He hadn't killed in years, not since Persia. He had been so young then, so easily influence in his youth and regretted killing many he did kill. He had made an oath to never kill again unless in self-defense. This was self-defense, wasn't it? He was stealing back what was _his_ , defending it. He justified for himself, knowing full well this was wrong, but couldn't find it in himself to care. He took a few silent steps closer to the fop and readied the rope.

In a flash, he had the boy in his grip who pitifully struggled and attempted to scream for her. Erik slowly tightened the lasso relishing the fear he could sense from the boy. He stayed behind him, he didn't know why, but he didn't wish for the boy to see him. He was just about to snap the boy's neck when it happened.

* * *

 **A/N: Don't y'all just love cliffhangers? :) Remember to review and I might just throw a good ol' double update in.**


	7. Down Once More

**A/N: Unfortunately I will only be able to update once a week (no more double updates :( ), due to school and life stuff. Hope y'all understand and keep enjoying. I will try and throw some double updates in its just hard to sit down and type an entire chapter that quickly. I plan to update by every Tuesday if I don't feel free to Punjab me!**

 **Disclaimer: Y'all should already know what goes here, but if you don't... I own nothing you may recognize from phantom of the opera (or any other phantom books I've stolen stuff from)**

 **Now let's see where the story goes!**

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Down Once More

He made the simple mistake that completely undid his resolve. He looked toward the stage. _She_ was taking her final bows. What would she think of him if he went through with this? His grip on the lasso loosened, causing the boy to suck in a large breath of air. The fop stayed perfectly still for a few moments breathing heavily, he was wondering when his attacker was going to finish the job.

Perhaps did his attacker feel some sort of mercy? Or was he just taking sick entertainment from watching him suffer? Raoul's questions were to be left unanswered though, as the shadow behind and the noose around his neck suddenly disappeared without a trace. He put his hand onto his neck and felt the welts beginning to form from the length of catgut that had been there. Who was the man that attacked him? Was it even a man? Would he ever know? These questions began to plague him as he tried to make sense of what had just happened to him.

He closed his eyes as he made the trek back to his lair. What had he done? He had let jealousy and rage overtake him, something he hadn't allowed happen for many years. Not since Persia… He shook his head in an attempt to get rid of such thoughts of that awful time in his life. The memories came flooding back anyway.

 _He was a young boy, only about seven or eight, he wasn't sure since he couldn't remember his birthday. He had just escaped the gypsies, those horrid gypsies, one nearly raped him… That had been his first murder, nine stab wounds to the chest. He would never forget that number for the rest of his days._

 _In an attempt to make it on his own he started his own small magic show to make enough money to live on. He would always end it with taking off his mask. How he hated the screams and ridicule that followed. Half of his face was- dare he consider it; handsome, the other… well, he was called the devil's child for a good reason. At least after removing his mask, the audience would throw a few francs his way, usually enough for him to get enough food to survive. His profession became widespread, somehow reaching all the way to Persia, where the Shah heard of his 'magical' abilities._

 _The Shah sent out his police chief to collect this magician and bring him forth to the court to be an entertainer of sorts. The man did as he was told traveling nearly halfway across the continent to find the man in question._

 _When Erik was first approached by this man he had immediately denied traveling with him, to going to Persia but then the man offered him something he couldn't refuse. Power. Something he had lacked nearly his whole life, something he wanted more of, to make those who had hurt him bow at his feet. Yes, he would do anything for power. He could care less about the riches that came with it since he was quite the skilled pickpocket, having never been caught. When he was offer power he followed this man across the continent to Persia, refusing to go by ship, no matter how much fast it may be. He couldn't take the thought of being trapped in tight spaces for a long period of time as he would be on such a ship._

 _On one of the nights they had set up camp, Erik had stayed awake as he always did since he hardly required sleep. Someone had broken into their camp and was planning to raid it and murder its occupants. They first broke into the Daroga's tent, which was a deadly mistake._

 _Over the years Erik had been a magician he had also picked up a skill with a bit of rope. It was silent and quite lethal. Whoever dared to cross him in those times would swiftly have been strangled and left in an alley somewhere, where they would eventually be found long dead._

 _He had appeared in the Persian's tent and quickly snapped both the men's necks in from of the Daroga with no hesitation. The man merely looked at him as if he had seen this all before, that seeing this was commonplace to him and thanked him for saving his life. Erik simply nodded and the two had somehow formed an odd type a bond, near friendship, but Erik was far too stubborn to admit it._

 _The two men continued traveling together and had no other occurrences that required murder. They eventually reached their destination, Persia. Erik spent a few days at Nadir's home, forming a bond with Nadir's sickly son, Reza. The boy's condition kept worsening, only putting him into more and more pain each following day. Erik approached Nadir one night with a choice._

 _Erik could give the young boy a mix of medicines that would cause him to die peacefully and painlessly. Nadir at first refused and then realized what Erik was offering to do, to put his son out of his agony. Nadir had agreed to it and Erik allowed Nadir to spend the last of his son's moments alone with him. That was one of the few moments that made Erik realize that not all people were evil and he could still do some good things._

 _That was before he worked for the Shah, though. Erik was escorted to the Shah the next day, the Daroga was no longer able to postpone the meeting. At first, the Shah seemed interested in Erik's skills in magic, then the conversation took a darker turn. The Shah found out of Erik's ability with a Punjab lasso. Erik had also been forced to take off his mask in front of the court, where only the Shah looked at him with morbid curiosity. He was then forced to become the Shah's assassin and killed hundreds earning the title "Angel of Death". He thought he enjoyed it, but in reality, he loathed every second of his time there._

 _Eventually, the Shah grew bored of watching Erik kill in the same way and had him build a torture chamber. Once Erik did that the Shah discovered his ability in architecture and had him build a grand palace with secret passageways and traps around every corner. Erik completed it to the Shah's liking and only the Shah and Erik knew of all its secrets._

 _Erik had picked up an opium addiction during this time, it dulled his mind of all the innocents he had uselessly murdered. It cleared his conscience for a short amount of time. This addiction stayed with him for quite some time._

 _As the Shah enjoyed their new marvelous palace they soon saw it fit that they should be the only one to know of the secrets within. The Shah ordered Nadir to track down Erik and kill him. He was originally to be blinded, but the Shah knew Erik was far too brilliant and would still know his way around. Instead of following the Shah's orders Nadir got Erik out of Persia, away from the Shah. Erik was forced to make an oath to Nadir he'd never kill again unless in self-defense, which he had honored since he had left. Nadir had found a mostly decomposed body and put it into Erik's clothes, tricking the Shah that it was Erik, letting Erik be free from his life there._

 _Erik found his way to Paris where the opera house was nearly built. Erik snuck onto the construction at night and added his own touch to it. That included his home beneath it alone with his passageways. During that time he also found a small Persian kitten which he took in and named Ayesha. He thought she was all the company he would ever need. He had taken up a morphine addiction, finding it was much better on his voice than the opium he smoked._

And now he was here, wallowing in his own self-pity now that he had attempted to murder yet again. He knew he needed to stop using morphine and he had almost gotten himself off of it many times. Then something like this would happen, where he can't take his own thoughts. He quickly injected himself with the morphine he kept on hand and relax into the effect it caused. He temporarily forgot about everything that was going on.

* * *

The opera house was in complete disarray. The news spread like wildfire. The Vicomte had nearly been killed by an unknown man, but then he had disappeared. Many questions arose. Was this man still in the opera house? Was he going to try again? Why hadn't he killed the Vicomte?

Raoul showed the welts on his neck to anyone who would listen, yelling about how this murderer needed to be caught before he was successful.

The news reached Christine quite quickly and when she heard a rope had almost killed her childhood sweetheart she had to go see for herself. She crept up to where the crowd was around the Vicomte who was telling his tale to the curious ballet rats and stagehands. He seemed to be nearing the end and then he dramatically pulled his shirt collar down to expose the marks. The _rope_ marks. What was it that Buquet used to say about the phantom. _How he killed with his 'magical lasso'._ She gasped to herself.

Wasn't Erik the phantom? He wouldn't do this kind of thing. _Would he?_ She knew such little about him that she had no idea. Maybe the marks came from somewhere else? She kept trying to protect Erik, she didn't want to believe he was capable of such violence. That he was still her angel. She closed her eyes and made a decision. She was going to go talk to him, find out what really happened. After all, _communication is key_.

How was she going to find him? She hadn't seen him in nearly two months. Perhaps she could navigate the way down to his lair on her own, by memory. She could probably figure out how to open the mirror on her him. During all this time that dressing room had remained vacant, Carlotta preferring to use one that a 'spoiled brat' had used was how she phrased it. She wondered who really was the spoiled brat there, but decided not to go down that mental road.

Everyone was preoccupied right now and she was sure she could slip away for some time without being noticed. She moved silently through the halls to the empty dressing room, the place that had served as a haven for her as she hoped her angel would return.

She entered the room she had kept clean and grabbed the lantern that she had left on the dresser. She had planned to do this for some time but never followed through due to considering what she would even say to him when she found him. Now she had something she wanted to say. She needed to discuss this mess with him and find out his side before she ran. She couldn't help feel fear as she began to feel for the switch that swung open the mirror. She found the button after nearly twenty minutes. She took a deep breath and lit the lantern and began to head down to find this mysterious man's lair.

She began to realize just how dumb of an idea this was. What was she doing? What if he wasn't even down here. She tried to remember if there were traps. Knowing what little she did about Erik, there probably were. Maybe they were disengaged? Maybe she would get lucky and remember the correct way. She hoped this would be the case. No matter how dangerous this was or how much the fear grew within her she couldn't find it within herself to turn back.

She began humming "Think of Me" hoping for the off chance Erik may hear her and come find her. That would make her feel safer, he knew his way down here. He knew where all the traps were and how to navigate these labyrinth-like halls. It was odd to think that she would take comfort from a man who she knew had a morphine addiction along with the possibility he may be a murderer. _What if he had actually killed before?_

She found herself too far lost within her thoughts and tripped over her own feet. She felt a sharp pain radiate from her ankle and cried out in pain. Erik probably can't hear her. She tried to stand up and begin the trek back to the dressing room since she was in no condition to attempt to find her way through the catacombs on her own. As soon as she put weight onto her ankle she cried out again and crumpled into a heap on the floor. Her lantern had shattered when she fell and she could feel the small glass shards within her hands causing her to feel blood oozing down. She felt tears prickle at her eyes. _What could she do?_ There was only one thing she could do.

"ERIK!" She yelled as loud as she could and prayed that he was within earshot. "Erik…. Erik…" She muttered out his name with each sob, from the pain she was in and the severity of her situation.

* * *

 **A/N: Now... I only said you could Punjab me if a chapter was late... not for cliffhangers... *hides from any oncoming lassos***

 **Ok, with that aside thank you to all my reviewers! Your reviews keep me writing this story! Please continue to read and review! (pls... I love me some reviews)**


	8. What Happened?

**A/N: This chapter was nearly late... but, hey I got it out on time didn't I? Thank you to all of you who continue to read this story and enjoy it! Any of you 'ghost' (or perhaps 'phantom') readers please leave a review! I'd love to know what you think of the story so far!**

 **Disclaimer: I wish I didn't have to put this here, but alas I don't own the wonderful story of phantom**

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What Happened?

Erik was just beginning to feel the high of the drugged haze he had been in wear off. He blinked a couple of times in confusion. He could almost swear her heard someone cry out in pain. He tried to listen closer. Yet again he heard the unknown person scream out. _Was that Christine?_ He could recognize her voice nearly anywhere. _What was she doing down here? She has to know what I attempted to do. Why would she want to seek me out after I did such a thing?_ He jumped up and went outside of the underground house. He tried to listen as closely as possible to ensure that the drug that was still within his system wasn't finally taking away his last semblance of sanity.

" _ **ERIK!"**_

All the remaining doubt was wiped from his mind and rushed to the boat to rescue her. She was the only person who knew his name, the only living soul he had trusted with such information. What could she do with his name anyway? It wasn't like there were any records of his birth or existence anyway. His mother had thought that a beast like himself shouldn't be considered apart of the human race. He completely agreed, he was a monster, _a loathsome gargoyle that burned in hell…_

He didn't have time for these self-loathing thoughts. He had to go help, Christine. He hoped she hadn't gotten herself caught in one of his many traps… those were meant to be lethal. Hopefully, she just tripped and got a few scratches and was just overreacting out it. _But why had she screamed in agony twice?_ Erik knew what real cries of true suffering sounded like since he had been the cause of quite of few of those screams in his lifetime.

He hurriedly maneuvered the boat toward the other shore, trying to avoid flipping it. It would do him no good getting himself hurt as well. He practically jumped out of the boat when it hit the other shore, not even bothering to tie it. He could care less if it floated away at this moment, Christine was more important. It was a frightening realization, that he would be willing to do anything for this girl… even give up his life to protect her. He sprinted through the caverns in the direction her voice seemed to have come from.

He knew he was getting closer when he began to hear her sobs. When he was mere feet away from her he heard her whispering something… his name? Why would she whisper his name of names? If she thought she was going to die down here wouldn't she whisper her lover's name? He slowly walked closer. "Christine?"

Her head snapped up and relief flooded through her eyes. "Thank god Erik!" She tried to push herself up with her glass-filled hands only to fall back to the floor with a cry of pain.

"What happened?" He looked at the ground and could see the small shattered pieces of her glass lantern. She likely could hardly see a thing due to the lack of light. He had the sight ability of a cat, likely due to all his time spent in the darkness. Bright sunlight hurt his eyes oddly enough.

She looked down in a little bit of shame and embarrassment. "I-um… was trying to find you… I tripped and my lantern shattered, I think there is glass in my hands." She almost forgot to add the most important thing. "Oh… and, uh my ankle is sprained, I think. I can't put weight on it."

 _Damn._ She was already most of the way down to his lair, so he made a last minute decision. "I-I am going to carry you…" He crouched down and prepared to pick her up.

"What?" She looked up where she assumed his voice was coming from in confusion. He had never dared to touch her, she was surprised he even dared to consider that as an option. _Desperate times call for desperate measures,_ she thought. She didn't resist as his arms ever so carefully came around her, one behind her back the other under her knees.

 _She is so small…_ He cradled her just the tiniest bit closer, it felt right to hold her in his arms. She seemed to also wiggle closer to him as well, he ignored that though. She likely just wanted comfort at this moment, and he was the only one there. Why had she come down there? She surely had heard what he had attempted to do to the fop, hadn't she? He had expected her to run as far away from the opera house as she could with the boy. Had she gone mad?

As if sensing his confused and muddled thoughts she spoke up in a small voice. "I…heard what happened…" She shakily started. " _Why?_ "

He closed his eyes as he began to walk towards his lair. "I-you love him." He stated simply. How else could he put it? "You were going to leave with him and quit singing…"

She seemed to get defensive. "And where did you learn that? How could _you_ possibly know my emotions towards anyone? I love Raoul-" Erik flinched at the mention of the fop's name. "as one would love a brother." She paused for a moment. "Why would my leaving warrant for _murder_? Or me giving my love to a man?" She awaited his answer.

Erik seemed to be trying to look anywhere but her. "I have been training your voice for eleven _years_ , Christine. You were going to throw it all away for a _boy_." He considered his next answer carefully, he certainly couldn't tell her that he thought of her as his… not yet at least. She had chosen to come down here to attempt to talk to him, might as well not scare her away quite yet. "He was becoming a distraction. Love is a temporary emotion, it fades away and I am certain you would regret leaving music." That fop likely just wanted a pretty woman on his arm, a vicomtesse to show off and to mother his disgusting little heirs. She broke him out of his thoughts.

"How do you even know that I feel anything for that man? Were you watching me… without me knowing?" She felt a shiver go through her spine at the thought of him watching her without her consent. What all had he watched her do? She moved a little bit away from his chest. They were nearing the boat.

Erik quickly explained himself. "No matter what you think I have never watched you with you knowing of my presence except…." He paused and looked down in shame. "I had been coming up to get you and found you gone… I found you outside… leaving with _him_. I followed… I could tell he wanted you and couldn't help my temper. I followed you to the park while you walked with him… and when he was going to kiss you I couldn't watch… you know the rest…"

She didn't realize he had followed her the entire time but should have guessed. He didn't know she hadn't kissed Raoul, did he? "Erik… do you think I kissed Raoul, or even wanted to be kissed by him?"

"Yes.. of course, you did… you had to of." Why was she asking him this it only served to pain him more than he already was.

"Erik, I didn't kiss him. I didn't even want him to kiss me… I am almost thankful you were there. When I heard your voice I was able to take action. I turned away from Raoul and ran to find you."

So, he had been wrong. "Why did you want to find me? You should have run the other way, Christine. I am a very dangerous man."

"I… don't know I just wanted to get away from Raoul… to be free of him in your world of music…" She looked up at him. "How am I supposed to know you are a dangerous man if I hardly know anything about you? You know practically everything about me, while I don't even know your last name!"

He didn't actually have a last name, his mother had refused to give him her's, saying she didn't want such a beast to be considered her own family. "Destler. I picked it up on my travels, I don't actually have a last name, but I tend to use Destler when I need to."

She didn't bother question why he didn't have a last name since, knowing him it was just another part of his tragic past. Or at least, she guessed it was tragic from how he acted. Why else would in live beneath the opera house? "Travels? Where all have you been Erik?"

"Lots of places, Persia is one I traveled with some gypsies for some time as well." He avoided anymore of her questions by stepping in the already untied boat that had thankfully stayed by the shore while he was getting her. He carefully set her down in the front of the boat, attempting to not disturb her ankle. He failed since she flinched and let out a whimper of pain. "Sorry…"

"It's fine… it's not your fault." She carefully said to him, hoping he wouldn't blame himself.

The rest of the boat ride was spent in an uneasy silence, so many questions still left unanswered. They soon hit the other shore and Erik first got out and tied the boat. He then picked her up and walked to his home with her in his arms.

He silently brought her in and set her down in the bed in the room she guessed he had set up for her. He left without a word closing the door behind him. He planned to check her ankle the following day, for now, he was going to gather the material he would need if her ankle was broken, which he guessed it was. Even if it wasn't it would still be a very severe sprain, a bad enough sprain that he would need to treat it like a break.

She fell asleep soon after he left, willing the next day to come… where she would force him to talk to her and to give her better answers than what he did give her.

* * *

Erik returned long before she awoke with the supplies he required to help her. He really didn't want to wake her, but it was necessary for him to get her foot stabilized to speed up the healing of it, along with it healing the correct way. He quickly knocked on her door and entered mere seconds afterward without receiving an answer. He entered to see her trying to blink the sleep out of her eyes.

She watched him enter carrying a bag. She quickly sat up and whimpered when she disturbed her ankle by moving it too quickly. _So everything had happened._ She hadn't seen this man in months and now he stood before her prepared to care for her. With the utmost care, he slowly uncovered her ankle attempting to avoid hurting her as much as possible.

He took her ankle into his hands. "I'm going to have to find out if it is broken… I'm sorry…" When she nodded he began carefully feeling her ankle for a break. She let out a hiss of pain when he touched nearly any part of it. At one point he felt a certain spot on her ankle and she let out a small shriek of pain. "Damn it." He muttered.

"You broke it. Unfortunately, you are stuck with me for at the very least two weeks." He knew that it would be bad for him to even attempt to carry her up to the surface, it would likely end up injuring her more. "Why did you even have to search me out? Couldn't you just leave me be?"

"I wanted to know the truth! Why you had just left me for months and just now reappear, trying to kill a friend of mine no less!" She took a breath. "You wouldn't even _talk_ to me after you saw me with Raoul. Would it kill you to communicate your damn emotions?" His eyes widened when she swore, not expecting a beautiful flower like her to say such profanity.

"If you would have just come and spoken to me yourself perhaps we wouldn't have this issue right now! Maybe I wouldn't be trapped down here with a madman who just tried to murder someone!" The insult towards him just came out in her anger, not actually meaning it. If anything she felt safer around him, felt like he would gladly protect her from the world's many dangers.

"Is that what you think of me as? A deranged madman? Well, then I'll give you a reason to believe that!" He began angrily wrapping her ankle, even in his anger he still wished to care for her. "I was an assassin! I killed hundreds! For a time I even _enjoyed_ it! Now you have a reason to call me such a thing!"

He finished wrapping her ankle and before he left he spared one last glance at her tear stained face. "Damn this world." That was the last of she saw of him for the rest of the day after he slammed the door behind himself.

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 **A/N See, not much of a cliffhanger this time, just an angry Erik :) Please continue to read and review!**


	9. Decisions

**A/N: I'm sorry! I've been really busy and my mom has to get surgery next week... I sorry this chapter is late and shorter I'm hoping to get an extra update in this week...**

 **Disclaimer: Do I really need to put anything here?**

 **Well, let's continue!**

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Decisions

Erik went into the main living area of his underground home and angrily seated himself at the grand black piano that lied out there. He began pounding out melodies full of anger and hate from his opera, 'Don Juan Triumphant'. He never dared let another soul listen to it, surely if one were to listen to it then they would be dragged into his endless pit of insanity. He had been working on the opera since he had found himself in this cavern he called his home. He wrote of all the things he yearned for… the joys of the flesh, something he could never have, but was forced to want nonetheless due to being agonizingly human. No matter how much he wished to not be apart of the disgusting human race he was still forced to have those damned desires. Just one of his many reasons he had to suppress these yearnings with less… legal… substances.

After a few hours of playing his music, if that's what it could be called, he stopped in stomped his way into his room. He sat at a small desk within the room that nearly everything in it was black. He finally began to realize what he had just done. He had just told his protege that he was a murderer. Why had he done that? Out of anger? Why did he wish so much to push her away from himself yet yearn for her to be close to him? He wished to protect her and yet at the same time get as far away from her as he could. He knew she would likely want to get nowhere near him after what he had just admitted to her. She was more than likely going to beg him to take her back up to the surface, anywhere where he wasn't. Then, she was going to run into the arms of her lover and tell him of the horrible monster that had stolen her away. Surely, after that then a mob would come and kill him. If he let them anyway. He really had no fear of death, he was going to hell either way, so why fight it? This world was already hell to him he could care less if he died, but there was something always stopping him from doing it himself. Some unknown force that kept him from finding his own way to death, no matter how much he reasoned with herself of how the world would be better without him he could never go through with it.

He could remember a specific time quite clearly, it was quite recently. About a month ago during his time of avoiding Christine he had planned to overdose on the remaining morphine, he kept within his home, to rid her of himself at last. He nearly had the needle filled with the cloudy drug within his arm, readying himself for death, when _she_ flashed before his eyes. That broke any resolve he had of following through and threw the needle across the room, shattering it. That had been the last of his supply, forcing him to venture above ground to retrieve more of the drug. He had tried to quit using it, but he couldn't stand the symptoms of withdrawal. He had more by the end of the following week and had tried to avoid using it. That was until he attempted to kill the boy and found himself on an unwanted trip down memory lane.

He had no idea how long he sat there finding more and more reasons to hate himself, but he was sure it was quite some time, at least a few hours. He hadn't slept in about seven days, that probably wasn't healthy, but he could care less, he never took that good of care of himself anyway. He fell asleep at his desk, his head sliding down from his hands causing his mask to slide off as well when he passed out. His head was against the hardwood of the desk, but at least he was getting some much need sleep that was more than likely to be full of horribly, unimaginable nightmares.

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Christine laid there for a long time, and just stared at the ceiling above her. It was covered with intricate paintings of red roses. She wondered if Erik painted them himself or had someone come down here and do it. She had to guess the former since she doubted he would ever let anyone into his domain, the privacy of his own home. If she wasn't in such a dreary mood and trying to piece together all that had happened she would have giggled at the thought of Erik bringing some fearful painter five cellars down. What had happened?

She had come down into Erik's catacombs to find him… then she had fallen and broken her ankle. Erik had come and found her, hadn't he told her his last name? Destler wasn't it? A rogue thought popped into her head. _Christine Destler._ She quickly shook it away. Why would she even begin to think of that? She felt fear in the pit of her stomach when she finally remembered the thing that had been troubling her. He had _killed._ Didn't he say _hundreds?_

" _For a time I even enjoyed it!"_ Those had been his words. He had _enjoyed_ killing people. Had they been innocent? She mindlessly wondered. Why was she trying to justify _murders?_ She needed to get out of here. _What if she was next?_ She shivered at the thought, even though he would never hurt her she still felt fearful at the possibility. _He had attempted to kill Raoul, hadn't he?_

She spent hours in that room by herself. She tried to think of ways she could get out of Erik's home. There was no way, not unless she could get him to carry her. She highly doubted he would allow her to go anywhere until her ankle was healed. She stared at that ceiling until she fell into a dreamless sleep, silently regretting her choice of coming down here.

* * *

Erik woke up with a start on his desk. He hadn't meant to fall asleep, he avoided sleep as much as he possibly could. He pulled a pocket watch from his waistcoat. _5:30 a.m._ He could have only slept for a couple of hours at the most. He needed to go out and get some provisions for Christine. _Christine._ All that had happened the day before came flooding back to him. _He had lost his temper._ He could barely remember what he had said to her. _Hadn't he told her he had killed?_ He knew he did, now he had likely lost her trust.

He got up from his seat and began to gather his cloak, hat, and other items that he needed to go to the world above. The trip was likely on going to take him an hour at most and he knew he would likely stall to avoid the inevitable moment of _explaining_ himself to her.

Before he left in scribbled out a note in his childish scrawl explaining he'd be back soon, that he had to go collect some food. He silently slipped into her room to find she was asleep and left the note on the nearby bedside table.

He left his underground home without making a single sound loud enough to wake her. He contemplated what he was going to tell her when he got back. Perhaps just tell her his past and get it over with? She must already hate him anyway. He might as well give her even more reason to run away from him. Yes, when he got back if she wished it he would tell her his past, he would leave nothing out, he would deal with her reaction to the information, whatever it may be. He would beg of her to try and understand, but if she were to refuse he would bring her back to the world above and disappear, from her life and the world.

He stopped himself from thinking any further from on that though, so he couldn't mentally talk himself out of telling her. He spent the rest of the journey up avoiding thinking of much of anything for long periods of time.

* * *

Christine woke up knowing that he wasn't there. Ever since he started teaching her she could sense if he was nearby. She never knew how she just did. She silently began to wonder. Was he coming back? Had he left her to die? She glanced around the room she was in as if she was going to find some sort of answer. She kept looking around until her eyes landed on a small piece of torn paper lying on the bedside table. She rolled over and picked it up, flinching when she moved her ankle on accident. She quickly read over the note, taking in his sloppy handwriting. She had expected it to be elegant and neat, but instead found it was childish and even difficult to read. As if… he had never been formally taught how to write. She guessed that may have been more than likely since it was obvious he had some sort of troubled past.

She felt relieved but unsurprised to know he was coming back. She began to wonder when he would return, how long ago he had placed the note within her room. What time was it even? She didn't have any sort of way to tell the time since there was not a single clock inside the elegant room she lied in. She resolved to just wait for his return and ask for some sort of way to tell the time.

She finally heard him enter his home after about forty-five minutes of waiting. She tried to make out where his footsteps were heading, but they were near silent. As she was trying to strain her ears to hear his silent footfalls there was a hesitant knock at her door.

"Come in." She felt that familiar fear build up within her stomach when he slowly opened the door. How odd, how this man could have killed before in his life, but act as a frightened child would. "You certainly must have some questions…" _Might as well get it over with._

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 **A/N: I hope y'all enjoyed please continue to read and review! (reviews keep me motivated!)**


	10. Revelations

**A/N: I'M SORRY ! My mom had surgery and my life has been a hectic mess, now it's starting to calm down so hopefully, I can get back to my regularly scheduled updates!**

 **Disclaimer: yea I don't own phantom (unfortunately)**

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 _ **Reviews- I'm going to add this section from now on and reply to all of your guy's reviews from the previous chapter here :)**_

 _ **Lucyole: Yep he is very sleep deprived, but I mean who needs sleep? Not me who's up at 12 a.m. writing a chapter,,,, nope. I agree with everything you're saying there and I hope you keep enjoying the story!**_

 _ **Please read and review so I can make this section bigger! :)**_

 **Now let's continue on this fictional journey!**

 ***EDITED,,, I MADE A HUGE TYPO LATER IN THE CHAPTER***

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Revelations

" _You certainly must have some questions…"_

She stared at him. Could she really ask him whatever she wanted? All the questions burning within her mind suddenly disappeared leaving her speechless. She wanted to ask so many questions, but why? She wasn't going to like whatever he told her she knew that much. Although for some reason she didn't want to make him too uncomfortable she had one question she _had_ to ask. "Do you regret it?"

He looked at her, his golden eyes swirling with confusion. "Regret what?"

"The murders." She said quite simply her voice cracking as she said it.

"I had to do what I needed to survive…" He said not giving her a straight answer. He ran his hand through his hair, a nervous habit he had picked up over time.

"I figure that Erik. But do you _regret_ killing all those innocent people." She waited for his answer wondering if he was just going to avoid the telling her the truth.

"I-" He didn't want to admit it… during the time when he was killing, he felt it was decent revenge for what all the human race had done to him… He had wanted to make _everyone_ pay and enjoyed watching life leaving their eyes. But now…? He regretted it… all those people he killed that were innocent simply because he thought it as cheap revenge. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Yes… I regret all the crimes I've committed."

" _Crimes?_ " She had planned on only asking him one question, but now she needed to know, needed to know more. "Erik… What all have you done?"

"A lot… But I had my own reasons." He closed his eyes. "For you to understand you must know my whole past. Not many can handle listing to the whole tale… I will tell you if you are willing to listen."

She had to know… When would she ever get another opportunity like this one to hear his story? "Tell me, Erik, I want to hear it." She prepared herself for what she was about to hear.

"Alright-" He opened his eyes and tried to memorize all her breathtaking features before he was to lose her. "My mother despised me, she called me a demon due to my deformity that plagued me…" He began the harrowing tale and watched her features until he reached the part when he had run away. He noticed that at some parts she would let out a small gasp such as when she heard he had an exorcism performed on him to 'rid him of the evils which consumed him.' He had chosen to look at a nearby wall when he really got into some of the darker parts of his tale, such as when he was forced onto display with the gypsy caravan.

If he would have glanced up he would have seen the tears forming in her eyes, but not from pity… more from empathy. She couldn't believe what this one man had gone through in his life. She noticed how he seemed to speak somewhat fondly of a man named Nadir. It surprised her that he had a semblance of a friend in his lifetime. She guessed that Erik would never admit his friendship with Nadir since he kept referring to the man that helped him escape Persia as a 'pest'.

He explained how he built his home beneath the opera house and took up the name "Phantom of the Opera" on some childish whim. Despite having to grow up so quickly he still had some tendencies a normal child would display in his younger days. He was finally out of that horrid phase and only wished to keep this opera house succeeding so he'd have a place to live. He wished he didn't have to make some of the notes so threatening, but the manager hardly listened to anything unless the note had some small threat within it. He never had to follow through with the said threats since the manager had the common sense to realize that Erik was just trying to help him succeed. As soon as his advice was followed there would normally be an increase in profits and good reviews. He had yet to remove Carlotta though, arguing that she brought 'notability' to the opera house. Erik had let it slide… _for now_ , since at the time, he was still training Christine. Now though, she was more than certainly ready and he couldn't let some _distractions_ get in the way of her success.

"So you see that _boy-_ " He said the word with completely obvious disdain and complete hatred. "Was getting in the way of my teachings. I simply needed to put an _end_ to his _distractions_." He waited for her answer to what he said.

She looked at him with confusion. "So if you were going to put an _end_ to him then why is he still alive? How is he telling everyone about your magical lasso?"

"Well… I was about to break his _pretty boy_ neck, but then you began to sing and I just couldn't do it… for the first time in my life, I couldn't kill!" It was so odd for him to finally feel some sort of morals. Never in his life had he felt what was right or wrong… but with Christine, she gave him some semblance of a moral compass. If she was in the equation he found he simply couldn't allow her to leave him by some mistake he made, such as killing the fop. "I was never taught right from wrong when I was younger, nor was I taught how to live in society. The only thing that I was taught was how to live in small dark places with little food or water." He remembered the small attic he was confined to as a young boy he was given a few scraps of bread a day along with a single cup of water. He was never allowed the comfort of a candle though. His mother had told him that 'the monsters would be attracted to the light and find him'. For the longest time, he believed that lie and quite crying from his fear of the darkness. Eventually, the darkness became where he was the most comfortable and that's one of the many things that made the fifth cellar below the opera house an ideal home for him.

Christine was tired of this dreaded topic and wanted to ask one other thing that had been on her mind. "So…. why is there a lake down here?"

Erik nearly lost his calm and collected resolve at that moment and burst out laughing. It was just such an odd question, he hardly expected her to ask that at such a solemn time of him telling her the story of his past. "I'm honestly not completely sure, but I have a theory it's a drainage area for the river the opera house could be built." Erik was glad that there was the lake down here, it was quite calming to just sit at the shore, with Ayesha his Siamese cat, and stare at the normally undisturbed waters near his home.

"Interesting…" An awkward silence fell over them. Neither knew what to say after all that Erik just revealed to Christine. Just as Erik was about to leave the room Ayesha jumped onto the bed. Christine reached out her hand to pet it and it nuzzled her hand letting out a loud 'pur'. "Whose this? I didn't expect you to have a pet down here…"

He was stunned that Ayesha was taking to another person. Whenever anyone else got near her she would normally bite and hiss at them, but right now she was the picture of a perfectly happy cat. "That would be Ayesha… I found her during a storm abandoned, I think she was being illegally traded and was lost sometime along the way. I took her in and have had her ever since. That collar she's wearing I actually stole off of the Shah's own cat." He gestured to the elegant collar covered in expensive gems that must've cost a fortune.

Christine chuckled. "Why in the world would you have stolen a cat collar if you didn't even know you would end up with a cat?" The image of Erik stealing the collar off of some fancy cat that was treated like royalty made her giggle even more.

"Well… you see... Erm… the cat's collar was one of the Shah's finest possessions is what I was told, so I figured that was fitting revenge since I knew I could never get away with assassinating the Shah." He was sure if he ever tried that he would've been killed in seconds without any sort of remorse.

At this moment she actually liked spending time with Erik. His stories could be quite interesting, even if he was sometimes breaking the law. The past was the past and from what she could understand he had no choice but to kill or he would be the one to find himself killed. She was finally starting to piece together the mystery that was Erik and began to understand that he was **n't** **(A/N: well I can't believe I accidentally put was instead of wasn't so sorry if that confused anyone)** completely evil. Sometimes crime wasn't black and white, sometimes there was a grey area that there was no way to easily explain other than just accepting it for what it was. She now understood why Erik did what he did, he believed he had no other choice than to protect himself. She felt sympathetic toward the man after hearing all the horrors he had been through. Perhaps this was the start of an odd friendship, one that would be based mostly on trust and communication, but she found she was alright with that. She was going to be stuck down here with Erik so why not make the best of it. She could **n't (A/N: remind me to never write and post a chapter at 12 am)** spend the entire time of her ankle healing hating him, she merely needed to accept certain things about him and move him. Yes, she decided, the past was in the past she was going to let Erik show that his past doesn't completely define him, and perhaps if he can show that to her then they can reforge their lost friendship.

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 **I will try to have the next chapter up as quickly as I can, as always please R &R! *Edit: sorry for that mistake***


	11. Daroga

**A/N - What's this? I'm still alive? I know a real surprise right. Yes the story at last continues and we get the introduction of one of our favorite characters! I'm so sorry for the delay and I don't want to trouble everyone with a long author's note so let's just jump straight back into the story!**

 **Disclaimer - I still own nothing you may recognize from phantom (sadly...)**

 **Also just a quick moment of appreciation for the reviewers who have survived this wait and the new readers! (A review on the chapter before this one actually inspired me to continue!)**

 **Now, let the story continue...**

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Daroga

The weeks spent down in Erik's home went by quickly. They spent most of their time together- well mostly due to Erik sitting in an armchair in the corner of the bedroom she was confined to- she didn't mind it at all, and enjoyed his company whenever he wished to give it to her. Some of her favorite times were when he read to her, he always kept his voice so crisp and clear and had so much emotion within it, but that never rivaled to when she could get him to sing to her. He had the voice of an angel's, whenever he sang to her she would go into a daze where she would forget all of her current problems and just enjoy the beauty of his voice. Whenever he would stop singing she would wonder if there was anything he couldn't do. She always came up with the same answer.

 _Be normal._ She hated to admit it, but that was the only thing this man of many talents couldn't do. _It must be quite hard… being shunned by everyone and forced into the darkness._ She thought to herself on one of her last days there. She had been there for about six weeks and enjoyed it, he hadn't been completely insufferable. Except, of course, for the times he got into his 'moods' as what she began to call them. He would shun her and say what a hideous beast he was and how she should run from him- even though she couldn't- she usually just ignored him on those days.

Erik had told her that he had an old friend who had recently resurfaced. She was curious who would have befriended a man like Erik, but she chose not to question the man's identity too much. Erik had spoken of him much more of a nuisance than an actual friend… That's when she pieced it together. Nadir,- if she remembered correctly- had he returned? Erik had been gone an awful lot… Perhaps he ran into the other man? She had to wonder. Hadn't he said that Nadir was the police chief in Persia? Maybe he didn't believe that Erik was actually caring for her after all that Erik had done in his past.

Christine was due to leave the following day. She had begun to walk on her own once again, which was a good thing. She knew her ankle would never be the same again at least she could still find her way around. She heard voices from the main area and quickly finished brushing out her hair so she could see what was going on out there. Erik never had anyone inside of his home. She quickly walked into the parlor only with a slight limp to see Erik talking to a darker-skinned man that was a couple of inches shorter than him, but still taller than her.

"Hello…?" She quietly said as she slowly walked into the room. Both pairs of eyes from the men (and Ayesha) whipped around to look at her.

"Ah, mademoiselle! Have you been in good health?" The darker-skinned man seemed much older, but had a much warmer demeanor than Erik. She instantly felt a liking for the man, not in a romantic way, but in a platonic way.

She wondered if there was some other reason the man was here. Christine could tell that Erik was visibly annoyed, perhaps the man before her thought Erik had been hurting her or something like that. She put on a bright smile in an attempt to sway this man's fears. "I'm doing fine monsieur! Erik had been quite the gentleman caring for me."

Nadir chuckled a bit. "Are you sure we are talking about the same man? The Erik I know is anything but gentle." Erik scoffed at that as Nadir patted the masked man on the back. Erik flinched at the touch making Christine wonder how much human contact Erik really has ever had. "By the way, you can refer to me as Nadir." He added as an afterthought.

"Then call me by Christine as well." _So this was the man Erik had been friends with for so long._ They were complete opposites, Erik having his dreary demeanor while Nadir was a joyful teasing man. Christine almost enjoyed watching them interact.

"Are you ready to return to the world above?" Christine stared at Nadir with confusion clouding her eyes.

"Wasn't I supposed to return tomorrow?" Nadir seemed taken aback that she wanted to stay longer than she had to. Nadir gave a sly smile to Erik who just gave him a glare of 'shut up'.

Nadir thought for a moment. "Unfortunately we must return sooner than expected. Many are getting… suspicious… of your absence." Christine could only wonder what everyone must think of her at this time. She hoped the police hadn't been involved… That thought made her reluctantly agree.

"Alright… allow me to gather her things." Erik looked at her curiously now. He knew she didn't bring anything with her when she came down here. She merely made a motion with her head to follow her. She wanted to talk to him before she left to make sure that he wasn't going to disappear on her.

Christine quickly left the room and Erik soon followed, giving some cheap excuse that he had to make sure that everything was in order. He slowly walked into the room with a gait as a frightened animal would that was still trying to assert its dominance. He was still hesitant around her, he was so sure she was going to leave him soon. That she merely wanted one last goodbye before she permanently left him.

"Why did you wish for me to come here with you?" _Away from the man who can take you out of this hell._ He nearly added the last half but thought better of it for that moment.

"I wished to speak with you before I departed." She said in an even tone.

 _So you can say your goodbyes?_ He merely wished they wouldn't be on bad terms after their last conversation, that's why he bit his tongue, for now. "About?"

She thought it would be best to get straight to her point with Erik. "You aren't going to disappear, are you? If you think that's what's best for me, it's not. I do not want to lose one of my close friends."

 _Close friends?_ He nearly sneered, she could never become 'close friends' with a man like him. "Although you seem to think it otherwise, I do believe it would be best that I removed myself from your life. It is not suitable for you to continue talking to some figment of your imagination, your so-called 'Angel of Music'."

Christine's composure broke some. Over the time she had been here he had merely said 'it was best for her', but never actually considered her own opinion. She was tired of it. She wanted a say in things, ever since her father died she didn't get a single say in where she went or what she did. "I'm tired of people deciding things for me! Can't people just realize that I want to choose what's best for me? That I'm not completely incapable of making my own decisions? Erik, why won't you ask me what I want for a change?" Erik was taken aback by her sudden boldness. Christine was staring at the masked man in challenge.

Erik had never seen her stand up for herself before… It was just so odd for her… She had never shown her fiery side before. Never once in all of the time she had been here in the opera house had he seen her stand up for herself to anyone. Let alone him. Yet she stood before him, staring up into his golden eyes with her blue ones in challenge. Challenging him to argue with her. To tell her that she was a woman and her thoughts were less than meaningful, as this society thought. He didn't think like that though. He realized the importance of a woman's mind, however confusing it was. Sure, Christine befuddled him at times, but seeing her defending herself as she was he couldn't help but feel a burst of admiration within his chest for the girl. Finally, he spoke. "What is it you want?"

"I want my angel to stay by my side-" Erik attempted to interrupt her here to once more tell her he was no angel, which she raised a hand to silence him. "-I realize you are no angel. But I would like our lessons to continue, on one condition." He tilted his head to the side as a cat would. "You no longer hide behind some wall as you give it to me."

He hesitated before nodding. As long as it was within a locked practice room or down below the opera house they should not be interrupted. "Yes, but I have my own request as well. Stay away from that _fop_ he is nothing but trouble." His voice changed to that of disdain upon saying the word 'fop'.

This is where Christine's expression changed to that of annoyance, before hesitantly accepting this. She was quite naive in a way for not completely understanding why Erik hated Raoul so very much. "Fine, but you must allow me to speak with him once to get him to understand that I have no interest in pursuing anything of friendship or more with him."

"Fine," Erik muttered, recalling the moment he had nearly watch the two of them kiss. How disgusting. He glanced out the crack of the doorway to see Nadir still out there and being quite nosey as he looked through Erik's many things. He made a slight noise of annoyance and turned back to Christine. "You really should be going."

"Of course," She stepped toward the door and began to walk out of the room. "I shall see you again soon, dear Erik." Christine wasn't quite sure why she said 'dear' before his name but it had felt right and merely went with it. She stepped to Nadir's side, gaining a strange look from the Persian man upon seeing that she wasn't carrying anything. "Let's go."

His gaze traveled to the room the pair were just in, as Erik stood there watching them leave. Erik had a rather strange look in his eyes, yet Nadir chose not to ponder on that for the time being. "Come, Christine, we mustn't waste much more time before bringing you up. The later you get up there the more questions you are sure to get."

She was silent as she fell into pace with the dark-skinned man. She half wanted to question him on Erik's past, yet she felt that was quite prying. It was for Erik to tell her if he ever did. Her thoughts were everywhere as they walked, she wasn't quite paying attention to her surroundings, not that they would be much different other than stone walls, but she was much more lost in her mind. She couldn't help but wonder if she did the right thing asking Erik to continue teaching her. Perhaps she had? What if this was going to harm her in the end? And Raoul… poor Raoul despite the night they had a few days ago she still forgave the man. He thought there were deeper feelings between the two of them than there really was.

It was rather strange how quickly the journey passed. Before long the older man was feeling for a switch on the gold-painted frame of the mirror. It truly looked quite out of place within this dark tunnel from this side, how she could see her dressing room within… She shivered slightly at the fact the glass was see-through. Then, at last, the mirror popped open with a click and she was once more out of the world of darkness and back within the world of light…

 _Yet was that really the best place for her?_


End file.
